Kitt's Vacation
by Trepverter
Summary: WIP Unusual circumstances force F.L.A.G. to transplant Kitt's CPU into another body. Can Michael and Kitt adjust to this drastic change? Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

KITT'S VACATION  
  
An Episode based on the 1980's televised series  
Knight Rider  
  
by Trepverter  
  
**Chapter One**

The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky as Michael Knight sailed down the interstate highway in his jet-black, sporty Trans Am doing a steady 75 miles per hour. Glancing at his watch, he sighed aloud.

"At least another two hours until we get there," he grumbled.

He silently wondered if he shouldn't just hit the 'Pursuit' button and take advantage of Kitt's high speed ability. Unfortunately, the use of any of Kitt's specialized, advanced functions would have to be documented and explained. His boss, Devon Miles at the Foundation for Law and Government, was a bear when it came to Michael's 'frivolous' use of the Knight Industries high tech Trans Am, affectionately known as Kitt.

Michael recalled Devon's reaction to his last report, detailing a 'turbo boost' over a herd of cattle in the road. "Yes, Devon, I understand that turbo-boosting over cows is considered unnecessary and frivolous use of Kitt's technology," Michael had explained. "But shouldn't Kitt's specialized functions be field-tested occasionally to be sure they are functioning correctly? After all, Devon, you wouldn't want me turbo- boosting into a wall because the turbo-booster malfunctioned!" Michael had managed to out-talk Devon on that one, although Devon had emphatically assured Michael that April's regular evaluations were sufficient to insure Michael and Kitt's safety.

April held advanced computer tech degrees on automotive mechanics, so Michael wasn't really concerned about any of Kitt's systems failing, but it made for a great excuse to take advantage of some of this technology for plain practical purposes. I bet even Superman warmed up a can of soup with his heat vision now and again, thought Michael.

The Foundation for Law and Government is a free-lance agency set up by Wilton Knight as a law enforcement agency privately funded solely by Wilton Knight. His benevolent hopes are aptly expressed in his personal motto "One man can make a difference." That one man was Michael Knight formerly known as Michael Long, a highly skilled police officer severely injured in the line of duty. Inspired by Wilton Knight, Michael emerged from surgery with a new face, name and job. Hired to fight crime and help the innocent, Michael's resources are provided by the Foundation itself. Working by his wits with the aid of Kitt, the computerized car, and from information provided by Devon Miles and the Foundation, Michael does make a difference.

Michael reluctantly decided not to use Kitt's "Pursuit" function and gently depressed the "auto-cruise" button on Kitt's dashboard. A high pitched tone sounded, confirming that Kitt was now fully operating without Michael.

"I'm gonna catch some 'shut-eye' for a bit, old buddy. Wake me when we get there," announced Michael as he leaned back and adjusted the driver seat into a more comfortable reclining position. He neatly folded his hands behind his head and sighed peacefully as he closed his eyes.

"Michael," responded Kitt nervously. "I am not fully programmed for this latest assignment. I cannot wake you up 'when we get there', nor can I get us there without the necessary information."

Michael smiled without opening his eyes and calmly answered, "Kitt, pal of mine, we are not on a new assignment. We are embarking on an adventure. We are going on vacation. Just keep driving on this highway for about 2 more hours."

"Michael, what do you mean we are not going on a new assignment? Does Devon know this? What adventure? Michael, I don't like the sound of this! Where will we be in 2 hours?" asked Kitt, growing more uncomfortable with Michael's mysterious answers.

"Kitt, just relax," Michael gently explained. "We're due for a vacation. We've been working very hard and need some 'R and R'. Besides, Devon and the Foundation have not given us a new assignment yet, so you know what that means old buddy!" Michael smiled.

Still in the reclining position with his eyes closed, Michael hoped that that would be the end of Kitt's questions.

"Yes Michael, I am afraid I do know what that means," responded Kitt sadly. "It means while you go off rock-climbing, swimming, horseback riding and the like, I sit alone in some garage or parking lot collecting dust and shooing flies. At best, I can cruise the streets in hopes of identifying and classifying the local variety of birds. Some vacation!" complained Kitt.

"Just two more hours on this road and then the adventure begins!" answered Michael. "Trust me, Kitt, you will have the vacation of your lifetime!" answered Michael. He was beginning to feel drowsy and shifted into a comfortable napping position.

Kitt did not feel at all comforted by Michael's evasive answers. No programming and no assignment. This was not good, thought Kitt. Michael was apparently not eager to share any further details. This was not the usual way things worked. Kitt was informed and prepared down to the smallest detail. They worked together, in sync almost as one in thought and action. What in the world was Michael thinking? Kitt wondered.

Scanning the surrounding area and what lay ahead revealed nothing. Nothing but road, road, and more road, observed Kitt. He silently continued on down the road systematically searching his data banks for information about possible 'local vacation spots' for this area. He was determined to find answers on his own if Michael was not willing to furnish them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

Almost two hours later and still cruising down the same long, desolate interstate highway, Kitt felt discouraged. He had not turned up much from his data base that would help answer his questions about what plans Michael had for their 'vacation'. His search revealed that there were only 3 vacation spots in this area of the country.

The first and closest one was a place called "Last Stand". "Last Stand" is described as an 'Old West' town otherwise listed as an 'amusement park'.

"Tourist trap," Kitt quietly commented to himself. Traditionally those places are nothing but a collection of dusty over-priced so-called souvenir shops peddling such things as cowboy hats, plastic guns and worthless 'fools gold' (or more accurately known as common pebbles painted yellow). Further information accessed from public records indicate that this 'Old West' amusement park was recently updated with computer Holographic equipment.

Hmmm, not very likely, Kitt thought to himself. I can't imagine Michael wanting to play 'Jesse James' for vacation. This site is located near a high-tech computer facility known for its continued breakthroughs and accomplishments in advancing technology, noted Kitt. Now, THAT sounds more like it!

"Oh-no!" Kitt whimpered to himself. There is a nasty junk yard adjacent to that wonderful computer facility! It appears to be a deposit for cars that have been wrecked and dumped! That means there is a horrible car crusher there! Kitt could feel the fluid in his radiator steam at the thought of those poor defenseless cars being crushed to plates and blocks of mangled metal because they were simply unwanted.

Kitt turned his attention to the next amusement park listed as being located in this area. It was described as 'an African adventure experience' called Africa Alive! Further details reveal that Africa Alive! is a natural zoo for animals that would be found in Africa. A portion of the park is devoted to observing the animals in their natural state through fenced off areas from means of a guided tour bus or a dangling overhead cable-car. There also appeared to be an area for vacationers to camp-out adjacent to the enclosed safari. There appeared to be the usual souvenir shops and an indoor movie theater which shows educational nature films. Would Michael think this park would be an adventure they would both enjoy? wondered Kitt. Is this the adventure Michael spoke of?

The remaining vacation spot listed was a '6 star resort' called The Getaway. Six stars? wondered Kitt, I believe the highest rating would be 5! he thought. Public records indicate that this establishment had changed ownership only last year. At that time, several permits were issued for extensive renovations. The local newspapers report that since The Getaway opened, it has failed to turn a profit. That is not unusual for a new establishment, thought Kitt. Surely the renovations were costly, but certainly the owner would have taken that into account. Construction records show renovations to the guest suites; however, the construction of a massive health club, extensive spa and numerous high tech recreation rooms would require substantial funds. Certainly the fees for staying at this resort would be astronomical in order for the owner to turn a profit. This resort must surely be an exclusive club for the richest of the rich, concluded Kitt. Certainly, this was not a place Michael could afford to vacation.

Just as Kitt was about to delete The Getaway from his database, a newspaper advertisement caught his attention. It wasn't the attractive photos that stood out, but the delicately printed words beneath them that read:

'**_The Getaway_**,'  
Truly the place to get away.  
Check it out, Check in!  
It's Free the first day,  
After you've tried it,  
We're sure you'll stay!

Considering that a free day would be in Michael's budget, Kitt reluctantly changed his mind. Then I guess I can't delete that one, Kitt concluded. I am not getting anywhere! Kitt muttered sadly.

Alert to the fast approaching weather-worn billboard Kitt became aware that they were approaching an Interstate exit. Most likely the exit Michael had intended to take. It was the only billboard on this road Kitt had seen in the past 2 hours. According to the billboard, this was the exit to take to go to the Last Stand Old West Amusement Park, Kontec Computing Company and Institute, Jakes' Pit Stop Gas 'n Go, Willie's Car Dump & Used parts and Dora's Homestyle Eats Diner. Kitt sincerely hoped they were headed toward the computer company.

"Michael," said Kitt quietly, "We are there."

Michael stirred slowly, rubbing his eyes and sat up.

"Michael, are you awake now?" Kitt asked calmly.

"Yes, Kitt, I'm awake now," Michael answered while re-adjusting his seat to the driving position.

He looked around and smiled, recognizing his surroundings.

"Great! Thanks, Kitt! I'll take it from here, old buddy" said Michael, pressing the 'manual-cruise' button releasing Kitt's automatic control.

"Michael, now that we are 'here'," Kitt began. "Would you mind telling me just where 'here' is?" Kitt's scanning lights began to flash, indicating Kitt was scanning the approaching area for any information he could find.

Michael smiled. He knew Kitt wouldn't find anything special. There was nothing in this area to find except dirt, rocks, clumps of grass and the few businesses that operated in this area.

"I'm sorry Kitt," apologized Michael. Suddenly he felt bad. This was supposed to be a vacation; Why was he feeling like he had hurt his best friend?

Kitt's scan revealed nothing but dirt, rocks, clumps of grass, a few local businesses some loose change, dried bones and metallic yellow rocks. Metallic yellow rocks? thought Kitt.

"Hey Kitt, listen," Michael began. "Define the word 'vacation'."

Kitt's lights began to flash again indicating Kitt's search through the computer files.

"Vacation," Kitt began, "according to Noah Webster's 1828 American Dictionary of the English Language, published by the Foundation for American Christian Education in San Francisco, California, taken from the August 2000 printing...."

"Noah Webster's 1828 Dictionary?" interrupted Michael "Is that the best you could come up with? Is that what April programmed you with? I'm really beginning to wonder about that girl".

"Excuse me, Michael, but April suggested that the most accurate meanings to words in the American Language would be found in Noah Webster's Dictionary. I am inclined to agree with her. If you would prefer a more modern definition...." explained Kitt.

"Never-mind," answered Michael. He quickly began to regret his comments. "Go ahead, I'm sorry for interrupting. What do you have? Oh yeah, you can skip the bibliography this time."

"Okay Michael. Vacation, noun, French word coming from the Latin word 'vacatio'".

Michael bit his tongue, not willing to interrupt Kitt again. He knew Kitt would get to the definition eventually. Even if he had to listen to these unnecessary details. He was glad he was human and could sift out important details while ignoring other useless information that wastes time and bogs one down.

"There are six definitions. The first definition: The act of making void, vacant, or of no validity; as the vacation of a charter," recited Kitt. He paused and waited for an indication from Michael as to whether he should continue.

"Great! Keep going," urged Michael.

"The second definition: Intermission of judicial proceedings; the space of time between the end of one term and the beginning of the next; non-term," Kitt stopped again, but only to allow a verbal space between definitions.

"The third definition: The intermission of the regular studies and exercises of college or other seminary, when the students have a recess." Again Kitt paused briefly before continuing.

"The fourth definition: Intermission of a stated employment."

After another brief pause, Kitt continued, "The fifth definition: The time when a see or other spiritual dignity is vacant. During the vacation of a bishopric, the dean and chapter are guardians of the spiritualities."

"The final and sixth definition is: Leisure; freedom from trouble or perplexity. In parenthesis it is noted 'Now little used'. That would be in 1828, Michael." Kitt added.

Kitt realized that Michael was approaching Jakes' Pit Stop Gas 'n Go. It was on a corner at an intersection of the main road and a barely perceivable dusty, dirt road. Directly next to and almost attached to Jake's Pit Stop was Dora's Homestyle Eats Diner.

"Are we stopping here, Michael?" asked Kitt.

"Yes, Kitt," answered Michael, "I am famished and I am sure you could use some nourishment as well. Am I right?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes Michael, I am getting low on fuel, if that is to what you are referring," answered Kitt. He had hoped to get some answers from Michael and this was starting to look like another delay tactic. Kitt couldn't fathom why Michael refused to tell him what plans he has in mind. After all, 'a vacation' is not a very enlightening term considering Noah Webster needed six definitions to explain what the term meant.

Michael eased the Trans Am off the road and into the full-service area of Jake's Pit Stop Gas 'n Go.

"You can fill up first, okay 'ol buddy?" said Michael, not expecting a reply, as he opened the driver side door.

Michael stepped out of the car and took a few steps to stretch his legs. He turned around slowly appraising his surroundings. There wasn't much to look at; the station and diner were both about 50 years old, identical in construction materials and condition. Both were in need of repair, but fully functional. The buildings were very weather-worn and aside from a few dusty corners with cobwebs and spiders, pleasantly compatible with a comfortable old western appeal.

A white-haired elderly gentleman gingerly stepped down from the station's front doorstep, where he had been sitting. A rickety old rocking chair wobbled back and forth behind him. The man appeared to be in his late 70's or early 80's and walked with a limp. Michael was not certain if this man had been injured or was coping with arthritis or some other age-related ailment.

"Hello there, sir," Michael called to the old-timer.

The kindly gentleman nodded his head and mumbled an incoherent reply that was undeniably welcoming. He continued to hobble closer to Michael and Kitt.

Michael waited patiently and offered the man his hand as he drew closer.

"My name is Michael," he said. "How are you today, sir?"

"Iyem as gooed az Iye git," the man replied, slurring his words. He smiled awaiting Michael's response. His smile revealed that the man was chewing on a large black wad of chewing tobacco.

The chewing tobacco in the man's mouth was making it nearly impossible for Michael to understand this man's speech, but Michael was catching on and quickly adapting to his speech pattern.

"That's great sir," replied Michael, not really sure it was; but it seemed the appropriate thing to say.

The gentleman stepped over to a nearby trash can and spit the clump of tobacco out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and turned to face Michael again.

"Sorry, 'bout that young fella," he said speaking much more clearly now. "Not much business here these days. Sometimes go for weeks at a stretch without a soul to cut the fat with. Do I know you? This noggin ain't what it used to be, ya know. 'ol Dora keeps telling me to take my pills, but just can't seem find them little critters. Them pills are mighty small, ya know, and they can roll right out of your hand if you ain't too careful. Just yesterday 3 leaped out of my hand when good 'ol Cleon pulled in for his weekly supply."

Michael wasn't sure whether he should answer or just let this man continue. He seemed to relish human contact and conversation; his side of the conversation, anyway.

Suddenly, Michael realized the man had stopped talking.

"Say, are you 'the Jake' of Jakes Pit Stop Gas 'n Go?" asked Michael as he leaned comfortably against the driver's side of the Trans Am.

"Yessireee, young fella. You're talking to the one and only Jake Blakely. Dora and I opened this station over 50 years ago, back when families took real vacations and knew how to raise children properly. None of this disrespect and lazy living you see these days where kids camp out in front of the boob tube and learn more bad habits. Honestly, where would I be if I was raised on television and sodie pop? My worst vice is this here chewing tabaccy, and even then how bad is that I ask you?"

Jake seemed to run out of steam at that point and turned from Michael to the nearest gas pump. Lifting the lever, Jake removed the nozzle from its holster and pointed it at Michael.

"Better fill-er- up if you want to make it to the next gas station, eh?" Jake asked in a tone that was clearly not a question and rather more like a command.

Michael nodded and moved away from the car. He reached for the gas station's car window squeegee resting in the bucket containing the window washing fluid and began to clean Kitt's front window.

"Say, Jake," Michael said as he stopped what he was doing to face Jake. "Tell me, how is Dora's cookin? Is it as good as it used to be?" he asked with a smile.

Jake glanced up, his face brightening with joyful surprise. He leaned forward toward Michael and intently studied Michael's face, searching for something he would recognize. Finding nothing, his face darkened. Just then, the gasoline nozzle clicked loudly, indicating that Kitt's gasoline tank was filled to capacity, so Jake turned his complete attention back to the task of replacing the gasoline nozzle back into its holster.

Puzzled and left speechless by Jake's unexpected reaction, Michael remained silent.

"I'm sorry young fella," Jake said slowly. "Do I know you?" he asked eyeing Michael suspiciously.

"Well Jake," Michael spoke with deliberate affection. "You see, when I was a young boy, I was not what you would call an 'enthusiastic eater'. My hamburgers, hot dogs, sandwiches, bagels and even baked potatoes were always without seasoning, condiments or dressings. It wasn't a problem at home because my parents were sure that I would eventually grow out of my simple tastes so they remained very permissive when it came to the meals at home; But, when I ate anywhere else it became very frustrating for me to find the simple plain meals I preferred at the regular restaurants. Even if I ordered a hamburger without cheese or pickles it would inevitably arrive at the table with some condiment I did not eat." Michael studied Jake's face for any sign of recognition, seeing none he continued.

"When I was ten years old, my parents brought me here on a vacation. We ate Dora's cookin' every day for every meal. It wasn't just that she was a tremendous cook and endearing hostess, she had a way of taking every meal order to heart. Everything I ordered came to me exactly the way I had requested, but there was more to it than that. She invited me into her kitchen to watch her prepare meals and lovingly encouraged me to try a taste of things she knew I would like. I didn't realize it at the time, but she taught me about showing compassion and encouragement to someone whose needs seem insignificant to others."

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle!" sighed Jake, gleefully hobbling closer to Michael to wrap his arms around Michael in a tremendous bear-hug. "If that isn't just like Dora, I don't know what is!"

Jake released Michael from the bear-hug and began to pull him toward the diner, obviously anxious to reunite Michael with Dora.

Michael flashed an uneasy look back toward Kitt. "Shouldn't I pay you for the gasoline first, Jake?" he asked, reaching for his wallet.

"Oh no, sonny!" Jake cried, "You've gotta see Dora! Wait until she sees you," he continued as he pulled Michael away from the gas pump toward the diner.

For a man in his 70's or 80's with a limp, Jake can certainly move when he wants to," observed Michael.

Michael and Jake quickly vanished into Dora's Homestyle Eats Diner, leaving Kitt alone at the gas pump with his scanner lights silently flashing.

Michael was here when he was a boy? Kitt asked himself. I don't believe I have any information on Michael that relates to his life before he joined the Foundation other than his former identity as Michael Long the police officer. Even that information is rather sketchy, he thought as he continued to search his data files for anything else in Michael's history.

Aside from his years with the California police, there appeared to be nothing else. His personal files listed the typical medical information also, but that again revealed nothing.

Searching through myriads of useless information listed in Michael's personal file, Kitt stumbled on something he thought unusual. Listed for his next of kin and life insurance beneficiary was Devon Miles. That's rather odd, thought Kitt. Why would that be? Shouldn't a blood relative be listed instead? Would that mean that Devon Miles is a blood relative of Michael Knight or rather.... Michael Long? Kitt's scanner lights glowed in contemplation at the prospect of Devon Miles and Michael Knight being blood relatives.

Ordinarily, Kitt would have eavesdropped on Michael's conversations in Dora's diner, but for some reason, the audio function on Michael's wrist watch was not activated. That is not like Michael, thought Kitt. We are NEVER out of communication. This is disturbing, thought Kitt. Perhaps the audio components have become dislodged or damaged, Kitt wondered.

Kitt ran a primary diagnostic test on the communication system in Michael's watch and found no malfunctions. Perhaps the problem is more intricately based, he concluded. So, Kitt ran the emergency comprehensive diagnostic test. After only a moment, the answer was clear. The audio communication function on Michael's watch simply appeared to be turned off.

Turned off! What was Michael thinking? screamed Kitt to himself. He NEVER turned off his communication link with Kitt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Two-thirty p.m., noted Kitt. I feel like one of those dreadful coo-coo clocks that have nothing better to do than recite the time. It's been nearly an hour since Michael and Jake disappeared into Dora's diner, what could be taking them so long? he wondered.

Just then Kitt's scanner picked up some muffled sounds coming from the direction of Dora's diner.

A rusty door creaked slowly open and the familiar sounds of Michael's laughter tumbled toward Kitt. Kitt was anxious for Michael to return to him. He felt like a lost puppy missing his owner. Have I sunk that low? Kitt wondered.

Michael, Jake and an adorably sweet-looking, gray-haired old lady were slowly approaching Kitt. This must be Dora, Kitt concluded. My, she has such an honest looking face, he thought. I bet she could sell mud-pies masquerading as chocolate chip cookies, he observed.

"Thanks a lot, Dora. That was the best home-cookin' I've had in ages!" chuckled Michael. He bent down to lightly embrace her.

"Remember, Michael, Cleon is a little hard of hearing in his left ear, so be sure to holler when you see him. I can't imagine what he will say when he sees you again. I'm sure he'll pop his shirt buttons with pride when he sees you after all these years," commented Jake.

"We'll see you for this evening's barbecue, right?" asked Dora. She was positively beaming with joy.

Jake put his arm around Dora's shoulders. "We'll see if Cleon will be up for a game of horse-shoes, eh Michael?" he chortled.

"If not, we'll threaten to whisper until he is!" suggested Michael, with a gleam of mischief in his eye.

Michael opened Kitt's driver's side door and slid right into position in one easy motion.

"Ah, Kitt, its great to be here, isn't it?" Michael asked with a contented distant look in his eyes. He was deep in a world of his own that did not seem to include Kitt.

"Michael," Kitt said firmly, "I'm afraid I am still not informed as to where 'here' is. For that matter, is Jakes' Pit Stop Gas 'n Go and Dora's Homestyle Eats Diner the adventurous vacation you spoke of earlier?"

Michael sat silently as he turned on the engine and guided Kitt back onto the main road heading toward the traffic light at another intersection.

This is odd, thought Kitt, why would such a deserted area require a traffic light?

The light immediately went completely dark. Michael slowed Kitt down to a crawl to observe which color the light was going to be when it relit. However, the light remained off. When Michael reached it, he stopped at the intersection and looked carefully around.

Kitt immediately detected a strange buzzing sound and began scanning the area to determine the source of the buzzing.

"Michael, there is a buzzing sound. Can you hear it?" Kitt asked.

Michael stared at Kitt's dashboard in disbelief. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them as if trying to remove a particle of dirt or eyelash embedded within. He was unaware that Kitt had spoken to him.

Kitt grew more concerned as Michael continued to rub his eyes more frantically, determined to remove whatever it was that was irritating his eyes.

Kitt heard the buzzing sound intensify and shifted into auto-cruise operation. He immediately sped forward on the main road, away from the traffic light operating in pursuit mode traveling at 100 miles per hour. As he raced away from the light, he noticed that it was not 'out' at all, but in fact fully lit. Instead of the usual green signal, there was an odd 'black one' in its place. The black signal was lit with an oversized, bulging, round black 'light bulb'. How curious, commented Kitt.

"Michael, are you okay?" Kitt asked as he slowed down his speed to a respectable 40 miles per hour.

"Kitt," Michael said breathlessly covering his eyes with both his hands. He had stopped rubbing his eyes, but dared not to open them. "Last Stand Inn is on this road," Michael said. He coughed his words out between gasps for air.

Using his dashboard scanning equipment, Kitt scanned Michael's body for his current medical condition and status of Michael's vital signs. The medical scan showed Michael's condition to be healthy, normal and even 'thriving'. However, both of Michael's eyes were red and irritated, but not injured. His brainwave patterns were unusually slow, in fact, extremely slow, emitting the delta waves of 3.2 cycles per second; the deepest level of sleep. Michael was fast asleep in the span of time it takes a person to flip a light switch.

Kitt wondered how long Michael would be asleep. He knew Michael could not possibly be woken up in this deep stage of sleep. Michael's brainwave patterns would have to be at least theta waves (above 3.5 to 7 cycles per second) or higher. Kitt's computer files reported that an awake and relaxed person would generate alpha waves of a consistent 10 cycles per second whereas an alert person would generate beta waves of twice that. Kitt decided to continue to monitor Michael's brainwaves and proceed to the Last Stand Inn down the road and re-evaluate things there.

As Kitt approached the Inn, Michael's brainwaves began to suddenly accelerate. Michael woke up abruptly and bolted upright with his eyes wide- open and dilated.

"Ow!" Michael yelled, covering his eyes.

"Michael, speak to me!" screamed Kitt.

Michael calmly removed his hands from his face and took hold of the steering wheel, oblivious to the fact that Kitt was maneuvering the car and not he.

"Michael?" asked Kitt.

Michael smiled broadly. His eyes were no longer dilated and his brainwaves were normal for a fully alert person.

"Kitt, aren't Dora and Jake great?" he asked, unaware of all that had just transpired.

"Michael, are you feeling all right?" Kitt queried cautiously.

"Sure Kitt, I'm feeling terrific! There's nothing like a vacation is there?" he said joyfully glancing at the passing scenery.

"Michael, are you aware that you just woke up from a nearly comatose state?" Kitt asked.

Michael began to examine Kitt's dash board, but stopped, believing Kitt was trying to pull something over on him. "Okay, pal, what's the joke? I'm not going to fall for it this time, 'ol buddy."

"Michael, I am not joking," Kitt explained. "First, we stopped at a black light, you screamed and covered your eyes and then passed out in a near comatose deep sleep. In less than 10 minutes you emerged from that state to your current condition: awake and alert."

"Kitt, I sure am glad you are learning to loosen up!" laughed Michael. "I was beginning to think this vacation was going to be a drag with your complaints."

"Complaints?" Kitt asked. "All I did was ask for some information about what we are doing here. You haven't told me anything Michael and I feel somewhat like the odd man out."

"Oh, Kitt," apologized Michael, "I'm sorry. Don't you see? There isn't anything to tell you. A vacation is a break or time of rest, relaxation and activities away and different from the regular work. Everything we do in our regular work day demands constant searching for information, detailed planning, careful scrutiny and precise actions. We have this time to not search, not plan, and not scrutinize. We should just take it moment by moment, enjoying and trying new things. This is the perfect place to do that. We can be ourselves here. Haven't you noticed that this area is nearly deserted? You can do almost anything you want here because there won't be anyone to see. This town has less people than a poker game on a good night!"

"Michael, that is not entirely accurate," replied Kitt. "The population in this town is indeed lower than most, but it is hardly a mere handful of people. And even if one person, be it Dora or Jake that were to see me turbo- boost or fire lasers at tin cans, there would be difficult questions to answer that could put you in danger."

"Kitt, don't be silly," Michael argued. "We reveal ourselves to everyone who steps into this car, everyone who we help. I'd wager to say that many of the criminals we helped put behind bars know about you and your unusual abilities. You might say you are the Superman of the road! Hey Kitt, I think I'll get you a nice blue cape with a big red and yellow K embroidered in the center of it!"

"Thank you Michael, but I hardly think that will be necessary," answered Kitt.

Kitt surreptitiously scanned Michael's medical condition. Everything registered normal, including his eyes and brainwave activity.

Kitt wasn't sure what to about this situation. Michael obviously didn't want to believe him or leave his precious vacation. What would Michael do if Kitt contacted Devon without Michael's consent? Michael already thought Kitt was a threatening dark rain cloud in Michael's vacation paradise of the Old West. Kitt still could not understand the attraction Michael had for this place. There really must be some strong emotionally charged memories for him to want to be here! thought Kitt.

Kitt noticed a large, brown, boot-shaped sign for Last Stand Inn and Last Stand Amusement Park, and pulled into a conveniently located parking spot. Michael, still unaware that he was not in control of the car, opened the door and stepped out without a second thought.

Out of the car and feeling great, Michael lazily stretched his arms and legs. He turned around taking in the surroundings and nodded with approval.  
  
"This place hasn't changed much in 25 years," Michael said. "Maybe a little updated, but pretty much the same."

The Last Stand Inn looked exactly as Michael had remembered it. It actually felt like he was stepping back in time. For a moment, everything around him blurred together and he felt as if time itself shifted and dissolved into the past. He imagined he was 10 years old again and 'chopping at the bit' to try his hand at some gun fights and panning for gold. He thought he could see his Dad struggling to carry their 5 matching light-blue Samsonite suitcases through the front door of the small, rustic looking cabin. Right about now, Michael's mom would be filling out the room registration and collecting brochures of all the local sites. He could smell the familiar sweet scent of his mom's favorite perfume.

Michael closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. He felt every muscle in his body relax. If Kitt could feel like Michael did now, he would know the pure meaning of the word 'vacation', thought Michael. He smiled to himself and turned to speak to Kitt, but he was not where Michael had left him!

Michael was confused. Where would Kitt go? he wondered. No matter. Maybe he needed a shadier area, he thought. I'm gonna go and check this place out, he said.

As he approached the cabin's front door, he nearly slipped. Glancing down, he saw a small, shiny yellow stone. He bent and picked it up, smiling. "My first piece of gold," he announced boldly and placed it in his pants pocket.

Inside the cabin, Michael approached the registration desk and signed the registration book. He looked around for the clerk, but there was no sign of him. I can't wait to see Cleon again, he thought, and slowly meandered about the cabin's front room, not looking at anything in particular.

A tall man with dark, curly hair entered the cabin. He was a man in his mid- 40's dressed in faded blue-jeans and red tee-shirt. He walked up to the registration desk and began sorting through papers, unaware of Michael's presence.

"Cleon? Cleon McGafferty?" Michael called.

The man continued his work, undisturbed.

Michael moved closer and spoke louder this time, "Cleon McGafferty?" he called.

Cleon still remained totally absorbed in his work. Michael walked past the registration desk and stood behind Cleon. Leaning forward, he spoke directly into Cleon's right ear. "Cleon McGafferty?" he asked.

This time the man reacted. He was so startled by Michael's presence that he jumped and nearly fell over! He caught his balance before it was too late.

"Who are you?" Cleon managed to say, trying to catch his breath.

Michael smiled and offered his hand. "My name is Michael. Are you Cleon, Cleon McGafferty?" he asked hopefully. Michael was sure that if this man was not Cleon he would have a lot of explaining to do. Possibly from a jail cell if this guy has a heart attack right here and now, he worried.

Cleon caught his breath and nodded. "I am, at least I was up until now! That is, if I live!" he replied teasingly.

Michael was relieved. He stepped back and pointed to the registration book. "I already signed in," he said feeling a little foolish for scaring the man out of his wits.

Cleon glanced down at Michael's signature in the registration book. "You alone?" he asked with surprise.

Michael smiled and casually stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His hand touched the yellow stone he had tucked in his pocket earlier.

"Found this on the way in," Michael said, removing the stone from his pocket for Cleon to see. "Perhaps we can have some target practice with it later on," he suggested with a twinkle in his eye.

Cleon, who was completing the room information in the registration book, froze. Target practice? he thought. Puzzled, he glanced up at Michael. "We don't use those stones for target practice. You looking for a shooting range?" he asked.

Michael smiled broadly, "Nope, there is no challenge at the shooting range, Cleon," Michael answered. "I learned a long time ago that the best training ground is a natural training ground. McGafferty Rule number one: If you shoot at paper targets therein will your trophies lie, but he who shoots a pebble in the sand, can capture a star in the sky."

Cleon eyed Michael suspiciously. Slowly he turned and carefully removed a wooden plaque from the wall behind him. He handed it to Michael.

Michael immediately recognized it as the wooden plaque he had prepared for Cleon years ago. Cleon had taught Michael how to burn letters into wood and this was Michael's parting gift to Cleon. Michael lightly ran his fingers over the engraved letters he had so painstakingly burned into this scrap piece of wood. It read, "He who shoots a pebble in the sand can capture a star in the sky". Michael turned to the back of the plaque. On the back of the plaque was a smaller engraving that read, "to Cleon from Michael Long".

"It's great to see you again," said Michael as he handed the plaque back to Cleon.

Cleon took the plaque from Michael and returned it to its place on the wall behind him. He had this unsettled feeling that something wasn't right. Was this indeed 'Michael Long,' the 10 year old boy he had taken such a shine to 25 years ago? He just wasn't sure. The young boy he remembered was short, had a very wide face, chubby cheeks and a small red scar on his chin. The man before him now was tall, slender, had a long finely chiseled handsome face and no red scar. In fact, he did not resemble the young Michael at all.

Cleon smiled politely at Michael, but said nothing. It was then that he noticed that Michael's signature in the registration book, read "Michael Knight". He quickly looked up and pointed to the signature in registration book.

"Cleon, it's me, Michael Long," Michael began, "At least that is how you would remember me. When I was 10 years old, I came here on vacation with my parents. You introduced and instructed me in the basic skills of expert marksmanship. I became a police officer because of you. The time I spent here with you inspired me to use those skills to help protect the innocent. I am what I am today because of you, Cleon and I want to thank you for it."

Cleon was touched. He went over to Michael and threw his arms around him. "There hasn't been another 'Longshot' here since you, Michael!" he said with tears in his eyes. The young boy he had nicknamed 'Longshot' because of his keen eyesight and natural marksmanship ability had become an officer of the law! Cleon was pleased.

"You were a natural, son!" Cleon said as the slapped Michael on the back. "There wasn't a tin can or pebble you couldn't hit! I'm not surprised you became an officer of the law! What's with the name "Knight"? Are you working undercover or something?" he asked excitedly.

"Not exactly, but it is my name now," Michael explained. "It's kinda a long story. How about showing me around the place?" he asked.

Cleon nodded and led Michael outside to the Last Stand Amusement Park.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As soon as Michael turned his back, Kitt slipped quietly away. He knew Michael was so engrossed in this vacation that he wouldn't miss Kitt for a few minutes. He seemed to be fine for now. That is, Kitt was counting on that.

Kitt had to return to that odd traffic light they had just seen down the road. He had never seen anything like it, nor had he ever seen Michael react that way for no apparent reason. The fact that it had affected Michael so strongly was bad enough. Thank goodness he recovered so quickly, but Michael didn't remember or couldn't remember. It affected his eyes and brain. Would it happen again if we pass through this light again? What would have happened if I had not gotten him out of there when I did! he thought.

I need answers, Kitt determined, and I can't get them waiting for Michael to come around. Sailing down the street at a discreet 40 miles per hour, Kitt arrived at the black light in no time. He pulled off to the side, to allow other cars to pass, though it seemed highly unlikely there would be any.

First Kitt used his scanners to detect the shape and composition of the components of the entire light fixture. Then he focused on the odd-shaped black light bulb. It was still buzzing loudly and fully powered, he observed. His sensors indicated a source of energy was being emitted directly from the black light bulb. It was not the usual UV rays one would expect this type of bulb to produce. In fact, Kitt had never seen anything like it. He activated his photographic equipment and took detailed pictures of the light from every angle.

Then Kitt focused on the connection of the light to the pole. It seemed to be the typical electrical connection, except the voltage in the wires appeared to be higher than usual. That indicated that this traffic light was using more electrical energy than the typical traffic light.

One final scan left, Kitt thought. He activated his atomic-molecular analyzer to determine the properties of the energy being emitted directly from the black light bulb. The molecular structure of this energy source was not familiar to Kitt. He searched his data banks for answers without success.

Without Michael's help, Kitt was on his own. Or was he? I don't have the necessary information to protect Michael from harm, he thought in frustration. I must do what I can to help him. I must call the Foundation and speak with Devon or April. Perhaps they will have the answers.

Kitt made a quick U-turn and headed back to the Last Stand Inn. He didn't want to hang around that traffic light any longer than necessary. He parked in a nice shady spot near the Inn. It was going to be odd calling Devon without Michael here.

Kitt activated the communication link to Devon's phone line at the Foundation's main office.

"Yes, Michael?" Devon answered cheerfully, "What is it? Is everything all right?"

"Devon, this is Kitt," Kitt replied. "I am afraid things are not all right. In fact, that is why I am calling. Is April there?" "Oh, hello Kitt, yes she is here," Devon answered, sounding surprised and concerned. "What is wrong?" he asked. April moved closer to listen.

"The short of it is that Michael has had an adverse 'reaction' to an energy force coming from a very odd-looking traffic light," Kitt reported. "I am sending you the photographs and information I have collected on the traffic light. I think you should review the results of my diagnostic medical scans of Michael's physical state and vital signs. I am including the time frame and duration of Michael's physical reactions, as well."

"We are receiving them now, Kitt," Devon commented. He quickly spread the papers, of information he had just received from Kitt, on the desk in front of him. He and April briefly skimmed over the information.

"This is going to take some studying," April commented. "The light bulb appears to be a type of 'Ultraviolet' light or 'black light' that people buy to enhance special glow-in-the-dark effects. Depending upon its intensity, the danger of staring into a black light can be quite hazardous. Black light illuminates fluorescent objects and phosphorescent objects. It would be highly unlikely that it would be useful in a traffic light, especially during the day. You say this happened today?"

"Yes, April," answered Kitt. "What do you make of the energy discharged from the light?"

"All I can say is that this information is not consistent with the radiation associated with black lights," April replied. "Kitt, were you effected by it?"

"No April, my self-diagnostics report no change," responded Kitt.

"That is good news," commented Devon.

"Excuse me, if I might make a request," began Kitt.

"Yes, Kitt, what is it?" Devon replied.

"Do you think special UV sun-glasses would protect Michael's eyes? or perhaps you could cover me with a coat of a UV protectant chemical paint?" suggested Kitt.

"I don't know if that would be enough to solve this problem, Kitt," answered April. "It appears to be more than just UV rays. UV glasses would only protect Michael's eyes from UV rays. If I can narrow down what the problem is, I may be able to come up with a protective formula that could be applied to your body."

"The trick is that repainting you is not a simple process," April continued. "There is the problem that your protective coating would resist most chemicals, including the protective formula. This is inherent in the function of your protective coating. We would have to re-configure the molecular formula that protects your shell to include the protectant, strip your shell from its frame and replace it with a new shell treated with the re-configured formula."

"April, that is not very encouraging," Kitt complained. "I called you for answers and so far you have only mentioned more problems."

"I'm sorry Kitt," apologized April, "I can probably come up with an effective formula once I determine the problem. But to apply a new formula will take some time. We would still need time to strip, repaint and replace your body armor, Kitt," said April, studying the papers lying on the desk before her.

"We don't have time for all that," Kitt answered sadly. "Isn't there something we can do in the meantime? This traffic light is on the main road here and I would prefer not to take Michael back anywhere near it."

"Let me look closer at this information and see what I can come up with," suggested April.

"Okay April," sighed Kitt, "I'll be waiting. Please hurry."

"Don't worry Kitt," suggested Devon. "Everything will be all right."

"Thank you Devon," Kitt answered.

He disconnected their communication link.

Now Kitt was on his own again.

Kitt wondered how much longer Michael was going to be at Last Stand Adventure Park, so he scanned the area to check on his whereabouts. Instantly Kitt had his answer. Michael was at the entrance of the park and heading back this way with someone else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It wasn't long before Michael and Cleon were back at the entrance to the Last Stand Inn cabin.

"Thanks for the tour, Cleon," Michael said cheerfully. He enjoyed being with Cleon. It was like being with family. Maybe because they had similar backgrounds. Cleon also was an only child. Cleon had once been a police officer. That is, until his elderly parents needed some help running the Last Stand Adventure Park and the Last Stand Inn. That was where the similarities ended.

Michael knew he could not make such a drastic change, at least not now...for sure! He had to keep moving and he was driven to help others. He needed it and he loved it. He knew there was nothing more satisfying than helping the helpless. One man can make a difference! he thought. Michael was already beginning to feel a stirring restlessness. He knew it wouldn't be long until he was back on the road again.

"Let me get your room key, so you can get settled in," suggested Cleon. "I can give you a shot gun, tin cans and pebbles for some target practice out back, if you like. I'd like to see how a 'McGafferty graduate' handles a gun these days," Cleon added with a chuckle.

"That would be great," Michael replied.

Michael followed Cleon into the cabin and returned with a gun and a large plastic bag. He headed directly to Kitt.

Cleon came out of the cabin shortly afterwards. He waved to Michael and continued walking through the parking lot and across the street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Michael opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat to talk with Kitt.

"How ya doing buddy?" he asked Kitt.

"I'm fine, but I am concerned about you Michael," replied Kitt.

"You can stop worrying about me, I'm just fine," Michael said enthusiastically. "In fact, I am here to invite you to join me in some old fashioned target practice."

"Michael, I don't need practice. I never miss," Kitt said in a flat even tone.

"Never-mind, I'll go by myself. But I'd much rather go with you," Michael said unhappily.

"Okay Michael, but I don't see much sense in it," Kitt agreed.

"Fantastic!" Michael shouted happily.

Michael opened the door and stepped out, carrying the gun and bag. "Follow me, pal," he called.

Kitt followed Michael to a deserted area at the far end of the parking lot and proceeded to a barren, sandy area. Michael set the gun on the ground and walked forward placing several tin cans, bottles and stones on the ground at varying distances. When he was finished he returned to Kitt and retrieved the shot gun.

"Okay pal," Michael said quietly. "You take the three on the left and I take the three on the right".

Kitt waited for Michael to shoot first.

Michael took his time with his three shots. He hit the two closer objects dead on, but only nudged the third from its spot.

"Not bad!" Michael declared.

Kitt destroyed his three targets with three even bursts of his laser.

"Not bad!" Kitt declared, trying to get in the spirit of things.

Michael smiled.

"Are we through now Michael?" asked Kitt.

Michael frowned. "No Kitt, we have to try for all the targets. Are you ready?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Okay Michael," Kitt answered.

"You go first," Michael offered.

Kitt counted the remaining targets. There were seven targets left. Kitt scanned for their exact location and proceeded systematically to destroy each one with blasts from his laser.

"Not bad!" Kitt screamed trying to sound like he was having fun. "Your turn Michael!" he added.

Michael smiled. "Kitt, there are no targets left," he said pointing to the sandy area they had been shooting at.

"Are we through here then, Michael?" Kitt asked.

"Yes, Kitt, we're through here," Michael said evenly.

Michael opened the door and stepped into the driver's seat and instructed Kitt to return to the parking area near the entrance to the cabin.

"Was that fun Michael?" Kitt asked.

"Yes Kitt, that was fun," Michael chuckled.

Kitt shut his engine off and waited for any further comments from Michael.

Michael rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms yawning sleepily.

"I'm gonna catch a few winks, buddy and then I'll check in with you, okay?" Michael asked quietly.

Kitt could tell Michael needed some rest. A quick scan, told him that Michael was still fine. He hoped that Devon would call soon.

"Okay Michael, get some rest," Kitt answered trying to sound agreeable.

Michael took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He opened the trunk, removed a bag of luggage and wearily walked off to his room.

Kitt's sensor's detected an unusual car entering the parking lot. It was coming from the computer place across the street.

He realized for the first time that the high-tech computer company called Kontec Computing Company and Institute was located right across the street! Unfortunately, that meant that Willie's Car Dump and Used Parts was there too!

The slam of a car door caught Kitt's attention. The gentleman that Michael was with earlier had emerged from the car and was walking toward the cabin. There was something very different about this car that was parked only two spaces away from Kitt..

Kitt scanned the construction of the car and found that the car's hood was actually a full-sized solar panel. There were wires connecting the hood to all the components that powered the car. This car must operate by solar power, concluded Kitt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Michael awoke to the sounds of loud, persistent pounding.

"Michael, wake up!" Cleon called, pounding steadily on the bedroom door to Michael's room.

Groggy from sleep, Michael lifted his head from his pillow and looked around the room. "I'm coming!" he called, as he forced himself to sit up.

How long have I been asleep? Michael asked himself, glancing at his watch. Michael blinked his eyes in an effort to focus on the small blue digital numbers on his watch. It read '5:30 p.m.'.

"Michael, it's Cleon!" called the voice from the other side of the door.

"Cleon?" Michael answered, beginning to emerge from his cocoon of slumber.

Michael slowly dragged himself off the bed and over to the bedroom door. Leaning on the door frame for support, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door.

Cleon excitedly pushed past Michael into the room waving a golden colored, plastic 'card'.

"You gotta see this, Michael!" he said elated. "You gotta see this!"

"See what?" Michael answered. He glanced at the card in Cleon's hand. Michael wondered what Cleon was talking about.

"I got a new car," Cleon began. "Actually, it's not my car, but they are letting me test drive it." Cleon paced in circles around the room, apparently too excited to stand still.

"You want to show me your new car?" Michael asked.

"Yes, you gotta see this car, it is the latest thing in technology! They don't even mass produce them yet!" Cleon said excitedly.

Michael laughed at the irony of the situation. He wants to show me a car that is the latest thing in technology, he thought.

"Okay Cleon, I'd like to see your car," said Michael.

Michael was interested in seeing Cleon's car, but felt uncomfortably sticky standing there in the same wrinkled clothes he had worn all day. Michael had literally stumbled into his room and collapsed onto the bed. He was desperate for a refreshing shower and change of clothes.

"I'm feeling kinda grungy though, can it wait long enough for me to grab a quick shower and change of clothes?" Michael asked.

"Oh sure! Michael," Cleon replied. "We can drive over to the barbecue in it tonight."

Michael nodded. "Sounds great, Cleon, I'll be ready in a flash," he promised.

Cleon waved the golden key card at Michael. "We'll be waiting!" he sang.

Ten minutes later, Michael sitting on his bed, showered, and dressed was ready to see Cleon's 'new' car. Strapping his communication link/watch onto his left wrist, Michael sighed. I better check in with Kitt, he thought. He pressed the button which activated the com-link and enabled the audio function.

"Kitt," Michael called. "Are you there 'ol buddy?" he asked.

Kitt's scanners flashed excitedly. "I'm here, Michael," he answered. "Where else would I be," he asked.

"Of course, Kitt," Michael answered. "Listen, 'ol buddy," Michael began.

Kitt sensed that Michael was about to say something he didn't want to hear.

"Cleon and I are going to a barbecue tonight," Michael continued. "He wants to show me his new car, so I'll be going with him. You can take the time to relax and enjoy the scenery, 'til I get back. Okay?"

"I understand Michael," Kitt said sadly. "You don't want to hurt Cleon's feelings by riding with me instead of with him. That's okay."

"You're very understanding, Kitt," commented Michael.

"Michael, would you do me a favor?" Kitt asked cautiously.

"Whatever you want, 'ol pal," Michael replied cheerfully.

"Please leave your com-link on," Kitt answered. "I don't feel comfortable being out of touch with you, Michael, especially if you are going to be somewhere else. Exactly where are you going tonight?"

"Okay Kitt, you got it!" Michael answered cheerfully. "The Getaway is having their grand-opening barbecue tonight. Jake and Dora say it is an event not to be missed: probably just some pie-eating and horse-shoe tossing. You know how these small towns are."

"Enjoy the pies and horse-shoes, Michael," said Kitt.

"No problem there, Kitt," laughed Michael.

Michael left his room and joined Cleon in the front room of the cabin.

Cleon smiled and led Michael outside to a shiny white car that appeared to be a vintage '1976 Spirit of America' Chevy Vega, complete with the red and blue decorative stripes and eagle banner.

Michael moved closer to the car to inspect the detailing and interior. Upon closer inspection, Michael discovered that the exterior parts were all the original, reconditioned pieces. Everything including the interior was a perfect specimen of the old Vegas produced in the mid 1970's. Michael was amazed to see the familiar bright red carpeting, white vinyl upholstery.

Everything on this car appeared to be as it was originally manufactured. What made this car the latest thing in technology?

Cleon opened the driver's side door and reached into the car. He pulled the lever that unlatched the hood. Carefully lifting the hood of the car and propping it open, he invited Michael to have a closer look.

Michael stepped closer and looked at the engine. What he saw was something even he had not seen before. Michael had seen many cars modified with engines adapted for alternative power sources, but this was unlike any of them. There were thick computer cables running everywhere connecting what looked like computer components to other computer components. There were several thick round cables attached to the inside of the car's hood, linking it to what Michael could only conclude was a battery of some type. From this angle, Michael realized that the hood itself was not an original reconditioned part, but in actuality some sort of solar panel designed to power the car.

"Does this car run on solar power?" Michael asked Cleon.

Cleon shrugged. "I don't know the details, but Kontec, the computer facility across the street, is adapting cars to run on a new power source. It operates off recharging units of 'black lights'," Cleon explained.

'Black lights'? Michael wondered. Didn't Kitt say something about a black light on this road? Michael tried to remember exactly what Kitt had said. "_Michael, I am not joking. First, we stopped at a black light, you screamed and covered your eyes and then passed out in a near comatose deep sleep. In less than 10 minutes you emerged from that state to your current condition: awake and alert."_

Michael didn't remember passing out. He thought Kitt was joking around with him. Passing out! Wouldn't he realize that he had passed out when he woke up? Michael wondered. Maybe not. He considered the seriousness of what this meant. If Kontec is experimenting with a black light, could it induce sleep and memory lapses?

"They give you any special instructions with this car? "Michael asked Cleon.

Cleon thought a moment. "They said to be sure to stay in town because the power supply will be cut off if the car is more than 15 miles out of range," he replied.

"You mean you have to stay within 15 miles of the black light?" Michael asked, wondering how many black lights would be necessary.

"It's not a problem for me because I pretty much stick to travel on this road. I rarely go anywhere except to see Jake and Dora, down the road. There is one black light half-way to Jake's station and another about half- way in the other direction to the Getaway. Ready to go?" Cleon asked.

"You sure this is safe?" Michael asked Cleon, not at all sure it was.

Cleon laughed. "Don't worry, Michael. This new car doesn't have the original engine problems the Vegas were known for."

Michael smiled weakly. He hadn't been referring to the old Vega problems, but the possibility of new ones. He nodded and began to walk around to the passenger side of the vehicle.

While Cleon replaced the hood back to its original position, Michael whispered into his com-link watch. "Kitt, I need ya buddy," he said quietly.

Kitt had been listening and understood Michael's concern about the effects of the black lights. Michael believes me, Kitt thought to himself. His scanners flashed with joy. He started his engine and slowly repositioned himself to a spot where he could follow the other vehicle.

Cleon joined Michael inside the shiny new Vega.

Michael adjusted the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs. He was not used to these smaller sized cars. He buckled his seat-belt and waited for Cleon to start the car.

Cleon inserted a gold plastic card key into a narrow slit on the steering column. The car immediately sprang to life. Michael was surprised; the engine's smooth purring sounds had a delightful calming effect.

"Just like a kitten," Cleon whispered.

The Vega pulled out onto the main road heading toward the Getaway. Kitt followed at a discreet distance.

Although it was nearly 6:00 p.m., the sun still shone brightly in the sky. Michael looked out the car windows observing the passing vegetation, or rather lack of it. Aside from a few scattered trees, rocks and boulders, it was fairly barren. In the distance, Michael could make out an extremely large facility consisting of several large-sized buildings.

Michael turned and looked for Kitt through the rear window and noticed that several other vehicles had fallen in line behind Kitt. He wondered how many other 'test' vehicles there were. Certainly, Cleon wasn't the only one.

"Cleon, are there many other test vehicles?" Michael asked, secretly speaking into his com-link to Kitt at the same time. He knew Kitt would know what to do.

"As far as I know, there are only a few of us who have them now. Kontec is encouraging everyone in this town to apply for a test car. You have to live here to get one though because these cars are specifically programmed to operate off the power of these particular black lights. These black lights are part of the experiment," explained Cleon.

"What happens if you go out of the range? You can't travel across the country in this car, right?" Michael asked.

"That's what keeps Jake in business," Cleon laughed. "You gotta keep your regular gasoline powered cars until they perfect the power generated through the black light and incorporate it into the car. The black lights currently use very high-voltage electric wires. The electric voltage necessary to run the black lights is much higher than the voltage in the traditional car battery. They must intensify the power of the black light to run on a lower voltage of electricity or find a way to provide the necessary higher voltage in a more portable form."

"You sound like an electrical engineer," commented Michael.

"We will be coming to a black light in a few moments," Cleon said pointing.

"It's just down the road, hanging on the post."

"It looks almost like a regular traffic light," Michael said leaning forward in his seat, hoping to get a better look."

"Yes, but it's not," Cleon said. "Kontec recycles much of their equipment. They collect discarded electrical, automotive and computer parts. Anything and everything, but bio-degradables is welcomed with open arms. Being located next to Willie's Car Dump is quite a great advantage to them. You might say that Willies Car Dump is a type of supply room for Kontec. It starts a chain reaction that benefits everyone."

"How's that?" Michael asked, interested in learning about the connection between Kontec, the cars and the town.

"The town benefits in two ways. The place residents go to discard their trash is the place that uses that same trash to advance technology. The advancements in technology are shared with the town and the world. It is a win-win situation for everyone," boasted Cleon proudly.

"That is, unless the new power source is harmful or dangerous," Michael stated, flatly.

"Dangerous?" Cleon asked, with surprise.

"Yes, this is experimental," Michael explained. "How do you know that the power generated by the black light and aimed at the car is safe?"

Cleon laughed. "Michael, there are no harmful rays generated by these black lights. The minimal UV rays generated by these black lights are way below any radiation levels generated by your typical television set. You are more likely to get hurt watching television than passing under one of these black lights."

Michael's skeptical look didn't convince Cleon that Michael believed him.

"Okay Michael, reach into the glove compartment," he ordered.

Michael obediently opened the glove compartment.

"There is a Polaroid Instant camera in there," Cleon continued. "Beside the camera is a box of undeveloped photos for that camera. Open the box and remove one. You can put the others back in the compartment."

Michael did as he was told. He held the undeveloped photograph in his hand, waiting.

Michael and Cleon remained quiet and still as the Vega passed directly under the black light. Nothing happened.

Michael looked down at the photo. It remained as it was before.

"Would you like me to take your picture?" Cleon joked.

Michael smiled and inserted the undeveloped photo in Cleon's Polaroid camera.

"Smile, Cleon," Michael warned.

With the press of a button the flash went off and Cleon's image was captured. Sixty seconds later, Michael held a perfect picture of Cleon sticking his tongue out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Kitt sailed smoothly into the parking lot of The Getaway. Preliminary scans showed that this was an extensive building complex complete with all the indoor and outdoor recreational facilities anyone could dream up. This place was the ultimate vacation resort.

Even though most folks had already arrived, there was still plenty of available parking. Kitt followed Cleon's Vega all the way from the Last Stand Inn to The Getaway, without any problems. Unfortunately, he lost visual contact of the Vega in a small crowd of cars entering the parking lot. Using his sensors, Kitt detected Cleon's Vega parked in a spot near the picnic area of the resort.

Kitt slowly made his way through the maze of cars and people. He selected a parking spot near Michael and the Vega. Waiting patiently in his spot, he listened in on Michael and Cleon's conversation.

"You know Cleon," Michael said. "You are a very photogenic person. What do you say we have Jake hang this up at the station?"

"Gimme that!" Cleon demanded as he grabbed the photo out of Michael's hand.

Michael laughed and stepped out of the car. It felt good to stretch his legs again.

"Hey Cleon!" a male voice beckoned.

"Be right there!" Cleon yelled back.

Michael turned to see who was calling Cleon. He couldn't be sure, but thought it looked like Jake Blakely.

"Go ahead Cleon," Michael said, "I'll be right there, just want to stretch my legs a bit."

"Don't be long," Cleon warned, as he walked off toward the picnic area and disappeared into a crowd of people.

Michael looked around hoping to spot Kitt. Not finding him, Michael spoke into his com-link watch, "Kitt, where are you?"

"I'm right here Michael," Kitt answered flashing his headlights.

Michael saw Kitt immediately. He opened the driver's side door and hopped right into the driver's seat.

"How ya doing 'ol buddy? What did you get?" he asked Kitt.

"In addition to Cleon's Vega, there were three other cars with solar panels that passed under the same black light: a Volkswagen Bug, a Plymouth Duster and a Dodge Ram. None of the occupants of the car were affected by the black light. In fact Michael, neither were you or Cleon. It is very puzzling," Kitt reported.

"I don't understand, Kitt," Michael said, confused. "You say that I was affected earlier. You said that I was hurt and knocked unconscious. Perhaps this black light is not generating power at the same intensity as the other."

"No Michael, my sensors indicate that the power generated by both black lights is identical in every way. You should have the same reaction to both lights," Kitt replied.

"That doesn't make sense," argued Michael. "I'm missing something. What in the world can it be?" he asked.

"Michael," Kitt said slowly. "I have a confession to make."

Michael looked surprised. "A confession? You?" he asked.

"Yes Michael," Kitt answered, "you see, I was very concerned about your reaction to that black light so I called Devon and April."

"You what?" asked Michael, in disbelief.

"I called Devon and April," Kitt repeated. "I didn't know what else to do. You didn't believe me and your health was at risk. I had no other choice."

Michael nodded. "I understand 'ol buddy. What did they say?"

"That's just it, Michael," Kitt answered. "Nothing. They didn't have any answers. I sent them all the information I had: the detailed analysis of the black light as well its effect on your body. They said they would call after they studied the data I sent them."

"I see," said Michael thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time to give Devon a call. Patch me through please, Kitt."

In an instant, Devon's image appeared on the small monitor of Kitt's dashboard.

"Hello Michael," Devon said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine Devon," Michael replied. "Kitt says he sent you information on the black light here. Have you come up with anything yet?"

"Just a minute, Michael," Devon answered. "Let me get April in here."

After a few moments, April's image appeared on the screen beside Devon.

"Hi Michael," she said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine thanks, April," he answered quickly. "What have you come up with on that information on that black light?" he asked anxiously.

"Well, Michael," April began. "You're dealing with the latest breakthrough in alternative power. It's incredible really. I spoke with a friend who works with the research department at Kontec labs. They are considered 'the experts of the experts' in energy research. From what my friend said, this could prove to be the safest, most efficient and least expensive power source in the world. These black lights could potentially be used to power everything from cars to houses to space crafts, naval ships and who knows what else. The possibilities are endless!"

"That's incredible April," said Michael. "So then, what happened to me has nothing to do with the black lights?"

"I didn't say that Michael," April answered. "Yes, my analysis of the data on the radiation rays produced by this type of black light show extremely low levels of UV rays and under normal circumstances there would be no reaction to any exposure; but the reaction you had was indeed caused by that black light."

"Wait a minute!" interrupted Michael. "Are you saying that the black lights will only affect **_me_**?"

"Not under normal circumstances," April replied. "Only when you are driving Kitt," she explained.

"Me?" Kitt asked. "Why pick on me?" he said, offended.

"It seems that when these UV rays travel through Kitt's windshield they are altered by Kitt's protective coating. The formula used to cover Kitt's shell and windows contain molecules that interact with the UV rays in such a way as to make them deadly. Your eyes are the most vulnerable because they are designed to receive light, including in this case, black light. I believe your brain reacted to the black light by inducing an immediate state of unconsciousness. Longer exposure could cause blindness or worse."

"So, I can't drive Kitt in this town?" Michael asked.

"I don't recommend it, Michael," replied April.

"This problem isn't confined to that town, Michael," remarked Devon. "I understand that these black lights are being tested in other cities across the United States. If this source of power becomes accepted nationally, you won't be safe anywhere."

"So what are we going to do?" Michael asked. "Remove Kitt's protective coating?"

"We can't have you driving around unprotected, Michael," Devon replied.

"I believe I can prepare a formula to cover Kitt's protective coating that will neutralize its effects on the black lights UV rays. What it amounts to is, Kitt would get another coat of paint," April suggested.

"You don't have to completely strip and repaint Kitt, do you?" Michael asked suspiciously.

"No, it is only a matter of coating the windows," answered April. "But, we should paint all of Kitt's windows."

"How long will that take?" Michael asked.

"I have to prepare and test the formula first," explained April. "Then we'd need time to apply it. After that, you and Kitt will be back on the road."

"What do I do in the mean time?" Michael wondered aloud.

"Funny you should ask," Devon commented with a smile. "We're on our way to you in the mobile unit," Devon said. "I'll brief you when we get there."

"Uh-oh," Michael said, wondering what Devon had in store for him. "I don't think I'm going to like this."

"Me either," agreed Kitt.

"Don't drive Kitt anywhere," warned April. "Where are you now, so we can meet you there?" she asked.

"I'm at a large vacation resort called The Getaway," Michael answered. "It's on the main road right off the interstate. Take the exit for Jake's Pit Stop Gas 'n Go, stay on the road until you see it. You can't miss it."

"Okay Michael, we'll see you when we get there," said April.

"Okay, thanks," Michael said pressing the button to disconnect.

The image on the screen disappeared and the screen went black.

"I guess that's that, huh Kitt?" Michael said sadly.

"I'm sorry," Kitt said. "It's all my fault. I am supposed to protect you not harm you."

"It's not your fault, 'ol pal" said Michael. "Devon and April will be here and everything will be back to normal again soon."

"I hope so," answered Kitt. "So much for vacation."

"Sorry Kitt," Michael apologized. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out."

"Okay Michael, I believe you."

"Thanks Kitt," Michael replied.

Michael glanced out the window and noticed the crowds of people at the picnic area. The parking lot was fairly full of cars; Michael wondered where all these people came from.

"Listen, 'ol buddy," Michael said, "I gotta catch up with Cleon, Jake and Dora. They'll be looking for me. I'll be back soon. Buzz me if Devon and April get here before I get back. Okay?" he asked.

"Sure, Michael," Kitt answered.

Michael stepped out of the car and casually walked over to the picnic area. There were quite a few people here for this grand-opening barbecue, he thought.

As Michael walked through the picnic area crowds, he looked around for any sign of Jake, Dora or Cleon. Although the picnic grounds were vast, the people milling around the tables and chairs made it difficult for Michael to navigate easily. At one point he nearly tripped over a small five year old little boy wearing a red 'Power Rangers' tee-shirt.

"Excuse me, young fella," Michael said to the young boy.

The boy looked up, with surprise, to see who was addressing him.

Michael knelt down to the boy's eye level and realized that the boy had been in the process of retrieving several miniature plastic action figures he had dropped.

"Let me help you," Michael offered, as he picked up a small blue plastic swordsman.

The boy remained silent and still for a moment, not sure if Michael were going to return the toy to him.

Michael smiled and handed the toy to the young boy.

As Michael stood up, the boy's expression changed to one of amazement.

"Wow! You're **_tall_**!" the boy exclaimed.

Michael smiled. "Yes, I am," he answered laughing and looking around for the boy's parents.

"How tall are you?" the boy asked in fascination.

"I am 6 feet 4 inches" Michael answered, wondering where this boy's parents could be.

"Where are your parents?" Michael asked, getting concerned.

"Oh, they're right over there!" the young boy said as he pointed to a picnic table occupied by several adults. "They're sitting with Gamber," he said matter-of-factly obviously referring to his grandmother.

Michael spotted the boy's family seated at a table nearby.

"What's your name?" Michael asked, as he led the boy over to his parents and Gamber.

"My name is Brian," the boy said smiling.

"Well, Brian, my name is Michael," Michael said. "It's nice to meet you."

"Brian, honey come here," called Brian's mother.

"Mom, this is Michael. He is 6 feet 4 inches tall," Brian announced to his mother.

Michael smiled, somewhat embarrassed at this unusual introduction.

"Nice to meet you Michael," Brian's mother said cheerfully. "My name is Holly."

"The pleasure is mine," Michael responded. "Your son is quite a little fella there," he added.

"Yes, he is," Brian's mother said. She smiled knowingly.

"Excuse me," interrupted the gentleman that was sitting beside Holly.

"This is Michael, Brian's new friend," Holly said to her husband.

"Brian has talent for making new friends," Holly's husband commented. "I'm John, Brian's father," John said leaning forward offering his hand to Michael.

Michael nodded and shook John's hand.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said turning to Holly. "Listen Hol, I thought I'd take Brian over to the table to get him something to eat."

"Okay, thanks Johnny," Holly replied.

Brian took John's hand as they walked off through the crowds in the direction of the banquet tables.

Just then, a loud voice came booming out of The Getaway's sound system. It was the voice of The Getaway's manager Tony Marino, a fifty-something, short, stocky man with thinning dark hair and glasses. "Excuse me," he called. "Excuse me? May I have your attention please? Everyone? May I have your attention please?" he repeated.

The crowd quieted down to allow Tony to speak.

"Hello everyone, I'm Tony Marino, The Getaway's manager. First of all, I'd like to welcome you all to The Getaway, California's premier resort. Thank you for coming to our Grand Opening barbecue. Please feel free to explore our many recreational facilities. Our desire is for you to get acquainted with the fine facilities our resort has to offer. All of our facilities are open and available to both guests and local visitors this week. For those of you who are not presently registered with us, we would like to invite you to stay with us for an evening 'on us', that is to say, free of charge."

At this point, Tony paused for a moment to retrieve a thin booklet resting on the table beside him. He held up the colorful booklet and continued, "For your convenience, we have prepared a detailed brochure of the entire facility. For example, available to you are the use of indoor and outdoor pools, tennis courts, racquet ball courts, basketball courts, weight rooms, sauna, outdoor archery, billiard room and water sports. For the kids we have a 'hands on' science room, arts and crafts activity center, and a new game room complete the latest computer technology in holographic games. We are happy to have this opportunity for you to get to know us. We sincerely hope you enjoy your visit with us. There's plenty of food too, so be sure to help yourselves to our banquet tables. If there is anything we can do to help make your visit with us more enjoyable, please ask anyone on our staff. Thanks for your attention, folks. Relax and enjoy! Oh yes, don't miss the fireworks display we'll be having later this evening! It is sure to be a spectacular show."

"This sure is an amazing place," Michael commented to Holly.

"Yes, my mom heard about it through her time-share group," Holly replied.

Just then John and Brian returned from the banquet table. Brian was carrying a plate full of colored jello with assorted pieces of fruit.

"Look Mom! **_Striped _**jello!" Brian said, with enthusiasm. He held his plate up to where Holly could see.

"Oh how pretty, Brian!" she said, warmly.

"See Michael?" Brian said, showing him as well.

"Brian wanted to start with dessert," John said laughing. "Patty and Kelly are still up there, they should be back in a few."

"That's okay," Holly replied, contentedly.

"Patty and Kelly are our two teen-aged daughters," John said to Michael; pointing to two lovely, dark-haired girls now approaching the table with their plates of food.

Michael smiled. How nice it would be to have a family like this, he thought to himself.

Just then, Michael felt someone slap him on his back.

"Michael! where have you been?!" Jake said, affably. "You're missing all the fun!

They had a pie eating contest and a three-legged race." Jake sounded like a kid at a circus. "We've been waiting on horse-shoes for you. Dora says they got an archery field set up here too. Cleon wants to know if you've still got that hawk-eye you had as a kid. He thinks he can beat ya! I don't know though, you look pretty slick to me, kid!" said Jake giving him the 'once over'.

"Say, did you see that new car Cleon's got?" Jake continued speaking, without waiting for a response from Michael. "I don't know about these new fangled gadgets they're puttin' on cars these days. Why don't they just leave well enough alone, I ask you? It's getting so that you need a computer degree to drive your car to the local market!"

Michael wondered what Jake would think if he had a ride with Kitt.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" Jake said, suddenly realizing that Michael had been talking with someone else.

"Jake, I'd like you to meet Holly and John, their three children Brian, Kelly and Patty, Gamber and ...." Michael paused realizing he didn't know the name of the other adults seated at the table.

"This is Val, my sister Gayle and her husband John," said Holly coming to Michael's rescue.

"Well, pleased to meet you!" Jake said enthusiastically. "I'm Jake Blakely. My wife, Dora is seated over there near the horse-shoe toss with our friend Cleon. Perhaps you all would enjoy a friendly game of horse-shoes with us later?" he offered.

Brian's eyes lit up at the mention of horses. "Horses? Real horses?" he asked excitedly.

"Not exactly," Michael answered, silently wondering if maybe this place didn't also have horses.

"I gotta be getting back to Dora now," Jake said as he began to step away from the crowd at the table.

"Me too," said Michael, waving slightly. "It was nice meeting you."

Brian smiled at Michael, so Michael gave him the 'thumbs up' sign.

Michael followed Jake to a picnic table near the horse-shoe pits. Dora was busy pitching horse-shoes with 2 other women, so Michael sat down at the table with Jake and Cleon to watch.

It was Dora's turn on the platform, she gently tossed her first shoe and it smoothly landed around the stake. The other two ladies clapped their hands enthusiastically. "A ringer!" one announced, "Go for two, Dora!" she cried.  
  
"Dora is pretty good at horseshoes, isn't she?" Michael commented.

"Yes, she's on a league registered with the National Horseshoe Pitchers Association," Jake answered proudly. "She's got award patches too. Last year she earned 'High Game' and 'High Average' patches. I told her she should display them at the diner, but she's too modest. Instead, she keeps her patches stored at the bottom of our bedroom closet in a shoe-box. Shoe- box! Very appropriate, don't you think?" Jake began to laugh at his own joke. He laughed so hard that he nearly began to choke. Michael quickly poured Jake a cup of apple juice from the glass pitcher on the table. Cleon reached over and patted Jake on the back trying to calm Jake and help him recover from this coughing fit.

Jake, finally catching his breath, wiped his teary eyes and took a long, slow sip of apple juice. "Ahhh," he said, feeling in control again.

"Anyone else, hungry?" Michael asked. He hadn't eaten anything since his luncheon meal at Dora's diner and the delicious smelling aromas coming from the banquet tables were beginning to get to him.

"I am!" answered Cleon. "Let's grab something to eat!" he said, quickly hopping to his feet.

"I see they got some tasty looking barbecued spare ribs," Jake said pointing to a plump-looking man at the next table who was hungrily devouring a plateful of mouth-watering barbecued spare ribs.

"Let's go," said Michael, grinning.

The three men hurried to the banquet table and quickly returned to their table with their plates piled high with an assortment of barbecued meats and side dishes.

"Say Cleon," Michael said after a few mouthfuls of barbecued chicken. "We gonna throw some horseshoes when we're done eating?" Michael asked, pointing to the horseshoe courts.

"Horseshoes?" Cleon asked in surprise. "Did Jake put you up to this?" Cleon asked eyeing Michael closely.

Jake remained silent and pretended to be totally absorbed in devouring his ear of corn.

Michael glanced at Jake and then back at Cleon. "Why do you ask, Cleon?" Michael asked curiously. He realized he was missing something.

Jake refused to comment. Smiling, he chuckled quietly to himself.

Cleon turned to Michael to explain. "Jake is just razzing me. Last year at the horseshoe pitching contest at the County Fair, Jake and Dora pitched against me and Lena. Lena is the girl I'm seeing."

"She's mighty pretty, Michael," interrupted Jake. "And smart too, she works at Kontec. Is that how you got that cool Vega, Cleon?" Jake asked, ribbing Cleon good-naturedly.

Cleon shook his head at Jake. "Like I was saying," Cleon said insistently, glaring at Jake. "We were playing horseshoes and every time I pitched the shoes, the shoes would hit the stakes and rebound away. I never scored _any_ points!"

Michael glanced at Jake and then turned his attention back to Cleon, wondering what this was all about.

"Now, Michael," Cleon explained. "You may not be aware of this, but I grew up tossing horseshoes since I was strong enough to lift one. I can ring a horseshoe around a stake with my eyes closed, but that day, every pitch was off. Oddly enough, every pitch that Lena threw ringed the stake."

Michael frowned, "Jake tampered with the horseshoes and stakes, I take it," Michael suggested.

"You bet he did!" exclaimed Jake, "He planted magnetized stakes on the court, then he secretly placed magnets on the toe calks and heel calks of some of the shoes. The heel calks are in the hooks of the shoes and the toe calk is in the top center of the 'hump' of the shoe. When it was my turn Jake handed me two shoes with magnets that the magnetized stakes repelled, but when Lena was up, he handed her the shoes that were attracted to the magnetized stakes. He secretly switched the shoes. I was going nuts until Dora finally made Jake confess."

Jake burst out laughing again.

Michael smiled and tried not to laugh, sensing Cleon's embarrassment.

"Sounds like a college prank to me," Michael said, trying to comfort Cleon.

"What did Lena do?" asked Michael.

"Lena thought I had arranged the whole thing with Jake to make her look good. You see, she had never pitched shoes before and was afraid of looking foolish," Cleon explained. "Women can be sorta sensitive about that kind of stuff, ya know."

"So Jake did you a favor then, right?" asked Michael.

"Yes and no," replied Cleon. "Lena played well, and had a great time. She hadn't expected us to win the contest, but we _**could have won the contest if Jake hadn't tampered with my horseshoes**_!"

Michael snickered.

"After that, I swore to Jake that I'd **_never_** play horseshoes with **_him_** again," Cleon added waving his index finger in Michael's face. "If **_you_** want to take _**your**_ chances playing horseshoes with him, go right ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Kitt sat patiently waiting in the parking lot for Devon and April. He passed the time by observing different people.  
  
Humans are very interesting to watch, Kitt thought to himself, as a young couple holding hands passed by.  
  
Kitt's attention shifted to a cute little brown-haired girl wearing a pale yellow dress holding tightly to the string of a pink helium-filled balloon. She was happily skipping alongside her parents. As they walked past another family, seated at a table nearby, a young boy noticed the girl's helium- filled balloon. "Mom, can I have a balloon?" the boy begged the lady seated beside him.  
  
Just then, Kitt detected a large black semi approaching his area of the parking lot. He automatically scanned it to determine if it was the Knight Industries Mobile Unit. The white embossed 'Knight' insignia on both its sides indicated that indeed it was.  
  
The semi parked in a discreet location near Kitt. Slowly the back cargo door opened and a ramp lowered into position.  
  
Ordinarily this would be the cue for Michael to steer Kitt onto the ramp and into the semi, but instead, another car backed out of the truck and onto the ground. The car was a jet black Pontiac Trans Am, nearly identical to Kitt.  
  
After parking the Pontiac, April stepped out of the car and approached Kitt.  
  
"Kitt, please tell Michael that Devon and I have arrived," April instructed.  
  
"Will do, April," Kitt said cheerfully. He was glad April and Devon were here to help.  
  
"Michael," Kitt called through the com-link on Michael's watch. "April and Devon have arrived," he said.  
  
"Thanks Kitt," replied Michael. "Be right there," he added.  
  
A few moments later, Kitt and Michael were inside the semi with April and Devon.  
  
"April, Devon glad to see you made it here safely," commented Michael.  
  
Devon smiled, "As always, Michael," he said joking.  
  
"So what have you come up with?" Michael asked, casually slipping his hands in his back pockets.  
  
Devon and Michael looked at April, who was holding a clipboard of papers in her hand.  
  
"Michael," April began. "I have prepared a formula to apply to Kitt's windshields that will not effect the strength and protective abilities of his windows. Once this formula is applied, it will prevent the black light's energy from passing through the window to you. In fact, it will reflect the light away from Kitt."  
  
"Is there any danger in that?" Michael asked.  
  
"No, Michael," April answered. "The black light's energy is absolutely safe."  
  
"So, I just leave Kitt here for a quick paint job... take a few days off...maybe play some tennis and racquet ball...." Michael rambled on, ignoring the looks of amusement Devon and April exchanged. "I'll need a car in the mean time though," he quickly added.  
  
"Michael," Kitt interrupted. "I don't believe that is exactly what Devon has in mind."  
  
"Oh?" Michael asked, moving closer to Devon. Visions of playing tennis, golf and rock climbing suddenly vanished. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
"Michael, as you know," Devon began. "It is the Foundation's laboratory that develops the technology we incorporate into Kitt. Each function that has become a part of Kitt improves our ability to fight crime and protect the innocent. It stands to reason that this advancement in technology may not remain exclusively ours forever and be used solely for the benefit of mankind. As technology progresses and the criminal element becomes aware of these advances, they seek to obtain them for their own purposes."  
  
Michael nodded in agreement. "So far we've been able to keep improving Kitt's abilities and stay ahead of the game."  
  
"Yes, Michael, we've been very lucky. With the exception of 'Goliath' I have to agree with you," replied Devon. "However, the fact that Wilton Knight's son Garth was able to steal Kitt's protective formula and apply it to that semi, 'Goliath' illustrates my point. Thankfully we were able to finally destroy 'Goliath' and stop Garth, but we won't continue winning the battles if we lose our advantage. Our advantage is technology. We need to keep looking ahead to the future: pursuing leading edge technology. We don't want to stagnate and lose our edge."  
  
"I understand; but Devon, what do you have in mind?" Michael asked.  
  
"Our latest technology involves Robotics," April explained.  
  
"You mean like 'R2D2' and 'C3PO' in the movie Star Wars?" Michael asked incredulously.  
  
"No, more like 'Andrew' in the movie Bicentennial Man," answered April, smiling as she walked over to a 7 foot wooden crate lying on the floor beside Devon.  
  
"You mean you actually have 'Andrew' in there?" Michael asked, cautiously.  
  
Kitt scanned the wooden crate. "There is a body in that crate, Michael. Its form is human, but it does not register any vital signs: it is not breathing nor is there a heart beat," stated Kitt.  
  
"What? You really have a robot in that crate?" Michael asked as he stepped closer to examine the contents of the crate.  
  
Devon lifted the lid of the crate and removed the protective wrappings to reveal the crate's contents. Inside the crate, appeared to be a sleeping man. He was so lifelike that Michael unconsciously took a step back.  
  
"It's okay Michael," April assured him. "This man is an example of the latest technology in robotics."  
  
"Whoa! Hold on a minute!" Michael declared. "This Andrew is going to replace Kitt? Is that what you are saying? My new partner is Andrew the robot?" Michael asked.  
  
"Not exactly, Michael" Devon said. He moved closer to Michael and placed his hand on Michael's shoulder as a comforting gesture.  
  
Michael took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay Devon, what is all this about? I thought Kitt was going to get his windows painted. Why paint his windows if we are taking him out of commission?" Michael asked, wondering if Devon realized how crazy this whole thing sounds.  
  
"Here's the deal Michael," Devon explained. "April is going to paint Kitt's windows and afterward you will continue your missions with Kitt the way you always have. However, for the time being, we've decided to take this opportunity to test the viability of robotic technology. We are going to remove Kitt's Central Processing Unit from the car and place it into this robotic body. Kitt's CPU will be the brain that will operate this body."  
  
"Devon, this is beginning to sound like a high-tech version of the story of Frankenstein," said Michael in disbelief.  
  
"The applications of this are limitless, Michael" Devon insisted. "Look, the medical field already uses artificial parts for hearts, lungs and limbs. Doctors are the even removing the movable joints from Mattel's old Barbie dolls and implanting them into human hands for finger joints! Imagine a human brain implanted into a robotic body. A paralyzed person could have fully functioning use of his limbs!" Devon said excitedly.  
  
"But robots are not new technology, Devon," Michael argued. "Kitt's CPU in a robotic body is merely a computerized robot."  
  
"That would be true, Michael, if the robot's functions did not use the latest technology. Take Kitt, for example," explained April. "Your typical black Pontiac Trans Am, no?" pointed to Kitt. "Now, consider that we equip Kitt with scanning devices, analyzers, lasers, high speed turbo boosters, ejection seats, a grappling hook, micro-jamming processors, automatic cruising and voice activated remote control systems and what do you have?"  
  
"I am a fully-functioning mobile computer, state-of-the-art technology, if you will," added Kitt.  
  
"Okay, April," conceded Michael. "I'll give you that Kitt is the latest thing in automotive crime fighting, but why change Kitt into a robot? I like him the way he is."  
  
"Thank you, Michael," responded Kitt.  
  
"You're welcome, old buddy," answered Michael cheerfully, glancing doubtfully at the sleeping robot nearby.  
  
"Listen guys," April interjected. "Kitt's exceptional abilities are only possible because of the programming in his CPU. His programming enables him to respond to commands quickly and accurately using the information in his data files. His data files are extensive and current. Because he must perform quickly and correctly, there is no room for mistakes. One shot of a laser at the wrong time and in the wrong direction could be disastrous. Experience has proven Kitt's programming to be efficient and flawless."  
  
"But if you put Kitt's programming into a robot, he will no longer have the technological advantages he had in the car.... the laser, analyzers, turbo boosters. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Michael asked.  
  
"Michael, you're missing the point," commented Devon. "If we take Kitt's CPU and put it into a state-of-the-art robot, we will have the ultimate in robotics. Implanting Kitt's CPU into this advanced robotic body will help determine the robot's strengths, weaknesses, and effectiveness. The purpose is to test the robotic functions using the advantages of a proven, superior computerized 'brain'."  
  
"Yes," April added. "We can refine robotics for the improvements we will need to maintain our edge. Whether that is minor additions or major overhauls to Kitt's automotive equipment or something more."  
  
"Something more?" Michael asked suspiciously. "You mentioned the possibility of implanting a human brain into a robot like this. Is that part of your plan? Or were you just speaking hypothetically?"  
  
"Well, Michael," replied Devon. "I was speaking theoretically, but if it were possible, I don't see why it couldn't be used to our advantage."  
  
"Devon, I thought you were speaking of helping paralyzed people to live normal unrestricted lives. It sounds like you are considering implanting a human brain.... perhaps mine? into a robot," commented Michael, growing uncomfortable.  
  
"Michael," answered Devon. "You know me, of course I would share that type of robotic information with the medical field. As for implanting your brain into a robotic body, I cannot make any promises. It's mere speculation really. Suppose you become seriously ill or injured in a manner that would preclude you from continuing your work with the Foundation. Let us suppose also that you could choose to return to your formerly healthy, vibrant state by having your brain transplanted into a robotic body. Advancements in robotics could make that possible."  
  
"Devon," Michael answered slowly, "I honestly don't know if I'd be receptive to a robotic body. Frankly, eternal life as a robot doesn't have much appeal."  
  
"Oh Michael," April interrupted. "There couldn't be eternal life in a robotic body. Although robotic parts could be replaced, your brain cannot. Life could only be extended as long as the brain remains alive."  
  
"Just a minute here," interrupted Devon. "We are nowhere near performing any brain transplants beyond simply transferring Kitt's CPU into this test robot. What comes out of that remains to be seen."  
  
Michael sighed loudly and stepped closer to the robot in the crate. It was really amazing how 'alive' this robot looked. Michael wondered what was so special about this robot. He thought of the robots he had seen in the movies and on television and felt less than enthusiastic about the prospect of turning Kitt into one of them. Suddenly he felt sad and guilty. What happened to the fun vacation he had promised Kitt? he wondered. "I'm sorry old buddy," Michael sadly whispered to Kitt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Michael paced back and forth, nervously awaiting the completion of the Kitt's operation. Although he knew that this would not be a painful or dangerous procedure, Michael couldn't help feeling that his dearest friend was undergoing brain surgery. Michael wasn't sure what to expect, but he found some comfort in the thought that this was a temporary change and soon Kitt would be his own self again.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, April beckoned Michael to approach the work station inside the semi. He walked slowly past what remained of Kitt as an automobile. The car was still and quiet: no flashing lights or blinking scanners, completely lifeless. It certainly didn't feel like Kitt was in there anymore, Michael decided.  
  
April led him to what Michael could only describe as the 'operating table'. The robot's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping. This time the robot actually appeared alive. His chest was gently rising and falling in a normal breathing pattern. The hushed breathing sounds of air escaping through the robot's nose sounded amazingly natural.  
  
Michael was speechless. Standing alongside the sleeping robot, he was stunned by the incredibility of it all. Michael was sure that it could easily pass as an adult male in his early to mid-20's. This robot is fairly tall, probably about 5 feet 11 or more, Michael estimated. His facial features were pleasant in appearance as well as natural looking, as was his straight, neatly trimmed black hair. Although the robot's body was medium in build, the definition of muscles through his clothing suggested a man of some strength.  
  
"Michael," April said softly. "There are some things about Kitt you should know."  
  
Michael turned his attention to April who was standing on the opposite side of the 'operating table'. Devon was otherwise occupied at the computer screen behind her.  
  
"Since we have installed Kitt's CPU into this robot," April explained. "You will find that Kitt's memory and personality remain the same, in spite of certain obvious changes."  
  
Michael nodded silently, indicating he understood and that April should continue.  
  
"Kitt's programming includes the ability to make self-adjustments," April said carefully. "This would be similar to what we understand as 'learning'. In other words, Kitt has been programmed to walk, talk, eat, sleep, and do just about anything a normal person could do, but within this programming he has the ability to adjust and modify these abilities to accommodate different situations."  
  
"He has sensors where human nerve endings are located," April explained. "So, he can feel sensations such as heat, cold, variations in pressure and sharpness of objects; however, he has also been given the ability to detect sounds and sensations that people cannot. His analyzing functions now operate through those sensors."  
  
April continued, "His turbo-boost function has been modified to provide swift speed in walking and running, and jumping or vaulting abilities equivalent to the accomplishments of Olympic gold medalists."  
  
April paused briefly to check if Kitt was still asleep, before continuing. "Kitt's laser ability has been directed through his eyes; but don't worry, no one should be able to detect that his eyes are anything but normal. We have given him great strength in his arms and legs, as well," she explained.  
  
April moved the sleeve of Kitt's shirt on his left wrist to reveal a watch. "His com-link to you is now through this watch that is identical to the one you wear. Basically, Kitt can do most things he did as a car, except transport you."  
  
"Yes, Michael," Devon said, as he stood up and handed Michael a set of Pontiac car keys with a 'Knight' emblem key chain. "You will be needing these keys, while April works on Kitt's windows."  
  
"Which car is it?" Michael asked, casually.  
  
"Why, a black Pontiac Trans Am, of course," answered Devon, with a grin.  
  
Michael looked surprised.  
  
"Oh, don't be too surprised Michael," warned Devon. "It's a rental."  
  
"We thought Kitt might be more comfortable in it," reasoned April. "And it would help to avoid any unnecessary questions about a change in cars."  
  
"So, what exactly do you want me to do with Kitt now that he is a robot?" Michael asked Devon.  
  
"Well, Michael, you're here at a vacation resort. Why not take him on vacation? It's the perfect place for him to flex his muscles, so to speak," Devon suggested.  
  
Vacation? Hmmmm, take Kitt on vacation! Now that's what I wanted to do in the first place. I wonder if Kitt has been programmed with the skills to play tennis? Michael thought.  
  
Michael looked down at the sleeping robot and wondered aloud, "Kitt, is that really you?" he said softly.  
  
Slowly, the robot's eyes opened. The unusually dark blue color of Kitt's eyes surprised Michael.  
  
Kitt looked calmly into Michael's eyes. "Hello Michael. Yes, it's really me. Who did you think it was?" Kitt answered.  
  
Michael smiled and gently replied, "I wasn't sure old buddy, but I sure am glad it is."  
  
Kitt turned his head to take in his surroundings.  
  
"Hello April. Hello Devon. Are we through here?" Kitt asked.  
  
April leaned down and looked closely into Kitt's eyes. "Hello Kitt, I just need to check a few things now that you are awake. Then you are free to go, okay?" she said cheerfully.  
  
"Okay," Kitt agreed. "But where shall we go?" he asked.  
  
"Well, Kitt old pal," announced Michael, "We are going on vacation."  
  
"Vacation?" Kitt asked. "It seems I've heard that before!" he said doubtfully.  
  
"As soon as April releases you," Michael promised. "I'm gonna get you the most delicious barbecued spare ribs you ever did taste!" he said brimming with enthusiasm.  
  
"Michael," Kitt answered. "Those barbecued spare ribs will be the ONLY barbecued spare ribs I ever did taste."  
  
Michael, April and Devon burst out laughing.  
  
"Okay Kitt," said April. "I need you to do a few things for me."  
  
"Anything, April," Kitt answered.  
  
"First, wiggle your left foot," April commanded.  
  
Kitt stared at April blankly.  
  
"What's wrong?" April asked. "Can't you do it?"  
  
"April, you didn't indicate the speed or duration," Kitt said plainly.  
  
April smiled, "Kitt, the parameters for speed are set to begin at slow or moderate, but you can adjust them to fit the situation. How about you start slow? Just think of it as when you would first start up and move forward into traffic. Okay?"  
  
Kitt smiled. His left foot began to wiggle slowly.  
  
"Good," April said, as she quickly noted his response on her clipboard.  
  
After a short series of tests, April was satisfied that Kitt's robotic functions were performing correctly.  
  
"It looks like we're done for now," April announced. "If anything unusual comes up, let me know right away," April instructed.  
  
"If all goes well, we'll meet again in a few days," Devon stated.  
  
"Okay, buddy," Michael said to Kitt. "Let's go."  
  
"Yes, Michael," Kitt replied.  
  
Michael led Kitt out of the semi and into the parking lot. As they approached the rented black Trans Am Kitt stopped and stared. He slowly walked around it, examining it closely. He slowly ran his hand along the hood of the car and lightly tapped on the windshield.  
  
Michael sensed that Kitt might be feeling 'homesick'. "Are you okay?" he asked Kitt.  
  
"Yes, Michael, I am functioning perfectly," Kitt answered.  
  
"What I mean is, do you want to go for a ride?" Michael asked.  
  
Kitt's face lit up, "Certainly Michael, that would be enjoyable," he said excitedly.  
  
Michael pulled on the door handle, but the door refused to open.  
  
"Oh yeah, keys!" Michael said, feeling foolish.  
  
In no time, Michael and Kitt were sailing down the road. There was virtually no traffic and everything was quiet and still.  
  
"You know Michael," Kitt commented. "This is quite an experience for me to be independent. I mean, I can go where you go and do what you do. No waiting in the parking lot under the raindrops!"  
  
"How does it feel to ride inside the car instead of being the car?" Michael asked, curiously.  
  
"It is different," Kitt replied. "I sense motion and speed, but cannot control it. It is a bit disconcerting."  
  
"Don't worry 'ol pal, you'll get used to it," Michael assured Kitt.  
  
"Michael, I don't want to alarm you, but this vehicle is practically naked. There are no scanners, turbo-boosters, analyzers or remote control systems," Kitt commented nervously.  
  
"That's perfectly all right, Kitt," Michael replied. "Ya know, this is typical for the average car. It only seems odd to you because you were equipped with every conceivable technological advantage."  
  
"It's positively barbaric, Michael! How cruel it is for people to demand that a car perform without the proper equipment," complained Kitt.  
  
"They can't all be as fortunate as you, Kitt," Michael replied.  
  
"We must do what we can to help those that are less fortunate than ourselves, Michael," Kitt said sadly.  
  
"That's what we are all about Kitt," Michael commented. "We help those in trouble. You are helping to develop technology that will be used to improve performance of machines, perhaps cars, for the purpose of helping those who need it."  
  
"That is encouraging, Michael," Kitt responded.  
  
Michael slowed down as they approached a black light. He glanced at Kitt and proceeded to pass under the light without incident.  
  
"Michael, I was wondering," Kitt began. "When we get back to the Getaway, am I to come along with you or shall I wait in the car?"  
  
"Why Kitt, you are to come with me of course!" Michael answered quickly. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, Michael, you will be meeting your friends and I don't know where I fit in," Kitt explained. "How will you introduce me?" he asked.  
  
Michael was silent for a moment. He hadn't given that any thought. After all, Kitt was his buddy, partner and friend. What was there to think about?  
  
"I simply introduce you as my partner and friend," Michael explained. "They already know I work with a law enforcement agency."  
  
"That is fine, Michael, but what will they call me?" Kitt asked.  
  
"What is wrong with 'Kitt'," Michael asked.  
  
"Nothing Michael, but 'Kitt' what?" Kitt said sounding worried. "What is my last name? It can't be 'Knight'."  
  
Michael thought for a moment. Kitt had a point there. If Kitt were 'Kitt Knight' it would complicate things unnecessarily. It would just be easier to give Kitt a different last name. Suddenly it occurred to him; the perfect name for Kitt.  
  
"Hey Kitt," Michael said lightly. "How do you feel about the name 'Kitt Kent'? You know, after 'Clark Kent'?"  
  
"Clark Kent?" Kitt asked hesitantly. "You mean as in 'Superman'?"  
  
"Sure!" Michael replied, "The famous caped crusader who fought for 'truth, justice and the American way'!"  
  
"Actually Michael, I believe the it goes like this," Kitt said correcting him, "'Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Look! Up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman! Yes, it's Superman - strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman - who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.'"  
  
Michael nodded to Kitt. "You got it!" he exclaimed.  
  
"It is rather appropriate, Michael" Kitt agreed. "But I still would prefer it if you would call me Kitt and not 'Clark'. Okay?"  
  
"Okay buddy, 'Kitt Kent' it is!" Michael repeated. "How does Kitt Kent feel about eating his first meal?" Michael asked.  
  
"Super!" Kitt answered cheerfully.  
  
"Very funny," Michael answered flatly. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

  
  
Back at the barbecue, Michael silently led Kitt through the crowds of people. He noticed with interest, Kitt's curious watchful expression. In awe, Kitt walked very slowly, studying everything.  
  
"Kitt, you okay?" Michael asked with concern.  
  
Kitt stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, Michael, I am functioning perfectly," he replied with confidence.  
  
"No, Kitt," Michael said quietly. "What I mean is, you're walking rather slowly," he explained.  
  
"Michael, I do wish you would say what you mean," Kitt answered curtly. "Honestly, sometimes, I just don't understand you humans at all."  
  
"Well Kitt," Michael replied jovially. "Join the club, we're often a mystery to each other! Anyway, I'd say this is your opportunity to learn all about us first-hand!"  
  
"Perhaps you can start by telling me where we are headed," Kitt asked. "It appears that we are meandering aimlessly through hundreds of people. And these people are milling around in different directions paying little mind to each other. They remind me of scattered ants in a patch of grass, foraging aimlessly for food with no rhyme or reason to their search."  
  
Michael smiled, "We're supposed to hook up with Dora, Jake, and Cleon at the archery targets."  
  
"May I point out," Kitt replied, "that traffic flow is much more efficient when there are roads, signs and signals. These people are just about walking into each other. And some of them do not appear to be deferring to each other's 'right-of-way,'" Kitt remarked.  
  
"Well, old buddy," Michael replied. "Two legged transportation is completely different than the four wheeled kind. There are 'roads' such as sidewalks and corridors, but for the most part, it's just 'forward and dodge' advancements. Just try not to knock anyone down."  
  
"Okay Michael," Kitt agreed reluctantly. He was not sure he was comfortable with these new side-stepping maneuvers. Kitt wasn't sure Michael knew where to find the archery targets, much less how to get there through this never- ending sinuous path.  
  
Unable to contain himself any longer, Kitt stopped dead in his tracks and faced Michael directly. "Do you even have any idea where the archery targets are located, or shall I scan the grounds for bales of hay?" insisted Kitt.  
  
Michael grinned at Kitt's impatience. "I know exactly where we are and where we are going," he replied contentedly.  
  
"How is that Michael?" Kitt asked, feeling confused and lost. "How can you possibly know where we are when we have made so many twists and turns amongst this crowd of moving people. This is like navigating through Jell- O!" Kitt complained.  
  
"Kitt, according to my calculations, we should see the archery field just beyond the announcers stand north of our current location," Michael stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Kitt clearly seemed unconvinced.  
  
"Okay buddy," Michael said teasingly. "Scan the grounds and tell me where the archery field is," he challenged.  
  
Kitt activated his scanning sensors and smiled sheepishly at Michael. "The archery field is exactly north of our current location. But Michael, how on earth did you know that?"  
  
Michael pulled a booklet from his back pants pocket and handed it to Kitt. On the first page was a detailed map of the entire grounds of the Getaway, including brief descriptions of special events.  
  
"I might have known," commented Kitt.  
  
"Just leave the driving to me!" teased Michael, as he resumed their journey toward the archery field.  
  
"Say, Michael, there you are!" Kitt heard an older man's voice calling.  
  
Kitt quickly glanced in the direction from which the voice was coming. He saw a familiar looking, white-haired elderly gentleman Kitt immediately recognized as 'Jake Blakely'.  
  
"Say, who's this strapping young fella? Is he your brother?" Jake said warmly. He extended his hand toward Kitt for a friendly handshake.  
  
Kitt smiled and looked at Michael, awaiting a proper introduction.  
  
"Jake, this is Kitt, my partner," Michael offered cheerfully. "Kitt, this is Jake Blakely, the owner of Jakes' Pit Stop Gas 'n Go."  
  
"Partner?" Jake said suspiciously eyeing Michael and Kitt closely. "Partner in what?"  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance Jake Blakely," Kitt said cordially, taking Jake's hand, the way he had often seen Michael do.  
  
"Kitt's my partner at the Foundation," Michael explained. "We've been working together for about five years now."  
  
"Say, you on a case now?" asked Jake with great interest. "You cracking down on Kontec? It's about time! Thank goodness you're here! You know, they've been taking over the town. Might as well rename the place Communist Kontecville. It's wrong, wrong, wrong the way they are taking over our homeland, changing everything...." Jake looked up at Michael's surprised face.  
  
"What's all this about Kontec?" Kitt asked. "I wasn't aware we were on assignment here. Michael, if there is going to be a change in procedure I'd like to be kept informed. Are we partners or not?" Kitt said sadly.  
  
"Woe!" Michael said abruptly. "There is no assignment or change in procedure you need to know about Kitt because there is no conspiracy here. We are simply here for a few days relaxation, Jake."  
  
"Oh, I get it," Jake said excitedly. "You guys are working undercover!"  
  
Jake quickly glanced at the crowds milling around him and nodded confidently to Michael and Kitt.  
  
"We can talk privately later," Jake added quietly. "Me and Dora can fill your ears with the stuff they are trying to pull here. It's a shame there aint real cops here like you guys! The ones they got here are Kontec cronies.... Say, why don't you two stop by the diner for breakfast and we can shoot the fat about it. It'll be on us, okay?" Jake asked.  
  
It was clear that Jake wasn't going to drop this and maybe the old guy just needed something to talk about, Michael thought. He knew that sometimes elderly people are resistant to change and wondered if Jake felt threatened by the computer company's influence in their town.  
  
"Sure Jake," Michael answered calmly. "We'd love to join you at the diner. Kitt has never eaten anything like Dora's delicious cookin!" Michael exclaimed.  
  
"I'm sure that is true," commented Kitt. "I look forward to it."  
  
"Say Jake, Are Cleon and Dora over at the archery targets yet?" Michael asked.  
  
"Cleon went to pick up Lena and should be back shortly," Jake explained. Dora is chattin' with her 'horseshoe troop' lady friends. She'll be along in about 20 minutes. I've gotta get my arthritis pills from the truck or I won't be good for anything. Go ahead over to the targets for some practice; I'm mighty tough to beat at the arrows!" Jake said smiling broadly.  
  
"Okay Jake," Michael replied.  
  
"By the way Kitt," Jake whispered into Kitt's ear. "I should warn you, Cleon is a little hard of hearing in his left ear, so be sure to holler when you talk to him. He's kinda sensitive about askin' people to repeat themselves, ya know?"  
  
"Thank you Jake," Kitt answered. "I'll keep that in mind."  
  
And with that, Jake disappeared once again into the crowd.  
  
"Well, Michael, shall we proceed to the archery field and try our hands at 'the arrows'?" Kitt asked politely.  
  
Michael nodded and pointed in the direction of the archery field. "This way, Robin Hood!" he teased.  
  
"Wouldn't that make you 'little John'?" Kitt teased.  
  
"Never-mind," Michael scowled at Kitt.  
  
"You know, Michael," continued Kitt. "'Little John' was believed to be over seven feet tall."  
  
Michael looked at Kitt doubtfully, "So where did he get the name 'little John"? Was it a joke?" he asked.  
  
"No, Michael," Kitt explained. "It is believed that his name was indeed 'John Little'. However, some say it is really John Naylor or le Nailer. It's said he comes from Hathersage in Derbyshire, the shire next to Nottinghamshire which was controlled by the same sheriff. My records indicate that there exists a long marked gravesite for 'Little John' in a churchyard in Hathersage. The headstone reads:HERE LIES BURIED  
  
LITTLE JOHN  
  
THE FRIEND & LIEUTENANT OF  
  
ROBIN HOOD  
  
HE DIED IN A COTTAGE (NOW DESTROYED)  
  
TO THE EAST OF THE CHURCHYARD  
  
THE GRAVE IS MARKED BY  
  
THIS OLD HEADSTONE & FOOTSTONE  
  
AND IS UNDERNEATH THIS OLD YEW TREE"So Robin Hood and his merry men were real?" Michael asked.  
  
"Well Michael, there are records of several 'Robin Hoods' and 'Robert Hoods'," Kitt continued. "And, some believe that other outlaws had adopted the name 'Robin Hood'. Unfortunately, it isn't clear where the truth ends and legend begins."  
  
"Here we are 'ol buddy!" Michael exclaimed, as they reached the archery field.  
  
"Where is everyone Michael?" Kitt asked with surprise.  
  
Michael looked around. Although the field was set up with several targets, not a soul was there. Apparently everyone else was busily occupied with other activities.  
  
Just then a friendly looking young man joined Kitt and Michael.  
  
"May I help you?" he asked cordially.  
  
The young man was in his early 20's, had blonde hair, blue eyes and a thin build. He was dressed in the Getaway's customary attire: a navy-blue polo shirt and tan colored pants. On his shirt pocket, he wore a bright, shiny, golden 'Getaway' employee badge embossed with the name 'Josh'.  
  
"Pardon me, Josh," Kitt asked the young gentleman, "What is the procedure for this sport?"  
  
"Come with me please," Josh said calmly. He led Michael and Kitt to a small wooden building on the edge of the archery field. Josh entered the building by a side door and reappeared at a large open 'service' window at the counter outside.  
  
"Would that be bows and arrows for two?" he asked.  
  
"Sure," Michael answered with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
Josh retreated deeper into the building and returned with two large wooden bows and two sets of brightly colored arrows.  
  
"Please sign for this equipment and I'll need a driver's license or other form of identification with a picture, sir." Josh said as he placed a clipboard and pen in front of Michael.  
  
Michael signed for his equipment and handed Josh his driver's license.  
  
Josh took Michael's license and walked over to what looked like a futuristic copy machine. He waved the license over the glass window of the machine.  
  
Suddenly, a bright light flashed instantly photographing Michael and his driver's license simultaneously.  
  
"What was that?" Kitt asked alarmed.  
  
"The flash?" Josh asked with surprise. "Just computerized camera equipment," Josh answered as he returned Michael's driver's license. He turned and handed the clipboard to Kitt for his signature.  
  
Kitt glanced up at Michael with a look of panic on his face.  
  
Michael smiled and nodded for Kitt to sign his name.  
  
Kitt took the pen in his right hand, as he had seen Michael do and neatly printed the name 'Kitt Kent' on the line below Michael's signature. He reached into his back pocket and removed a brown leather wallet that April had prepared for him. Smiling confidently, Kitt removed a valid Citibank Mastercard credit card complete with photograph from his wallet.  
  
Michael watched with interest as the startled young man stared at the credit card.  
  
Michael wasn't surprised that April had prepared a wallet for Kitt, but he wondered if anything in his wallet identified Kitt with a last name. How can you do an I.D. without a last name? Would she have just assigned 'Knight' to Kitt? Wouldn't she have mentioned it to Kitt? Michael wondered. That seemed so unlike her to miss a detail like that.  
  
"Something wrong?" Michael asked straining forward to get a closer look at Kitt's credit card.  
  
"Your name is missing from this card, sir," he said as he returned the credit card to Kitt.  
  
"Who is the credit card issued to?" Michael asked anxiously.  
  
"The card is credited as belonging to The Foundation for Law and Government, sir," explained Josh. "Have you a driver's license instead?" he asked nervously.  
  
Michael reached over and took the credit card from Kitt.  
  
Kitt was speechless. He wondered how he was going to prove who he was, knowing that only a few hours ago he didn't even have a face! He knew he didn't even have a library card to prove his identity. Other than the credit card, the only other things in his wallet were cash and a few "family photos" of Michael, Devon and April at the Foundation.  
  
"Listen Josh," Michael said in a gentle but firm voice. "This card may not show Kitt's name, but it is a valid photo I.D. and does have reliable, current information. Certainly this would be enough to track him down should he decide to run off with a quiver of arrows."  
  
Josh looked hesitant to accept this 'incomplete' credit card as proof. He would feel better if there were some documentation that was more precise, like a driver's license.  
  
"Don't you have a driver's license to back this up?" Josh asked Kitt hopefully.  
  
Kitt shook his head, "I am afraid I have never been afforded that privilege," he answered reluctantly.  
  
"Tell you what Josh," Michael said smiling with renewed confidence. "I can see you are a man of honor, not willing to compromise your company's policies. I respect that and commend you for it. I certainly wouldn't want you to do anything against the rules, so how about you allow me to cover Kitt's archery equipment. You've already approved my credentials, just add his to mine."  
  
"Thank you Michael," Kitt said.  
  
Josh uneasily agreed to Michael's suggestion and led them back to the shooting area.  
  
"Have you shot before?" Josh asked cautiously. "I mean, would you like any assistance or anything?"  
  
"No thanks Josh," Michael answered happily. "I'll take it from here."  
  
Relieved, Josh nodded in agreement. He smiled and disappeared into the equipment building once again.  
  
"How about we shoot some arrows?" Kitt asked.  
  
"Now you're talking!" Michael laughed.  
  
"Would you care to go first or shall I?" said Kitt as he selected the quiver of bright yellow arrows.  
  
"We'll shoot side by side, 'ol buddy" Michael answered. "You shoot at the first target on the left, and I'll shoot at the one next to it. Okay? We'll count the score when we retrieve the arrows."  
  
"That will be fine Michael," Kitt said as he raised his bow and practiced pulling and releasing the string.  
  
This was going to be fun, Kitt thought. I wonder if I should go easy on him and let him win the first round, Kitt considered. Nahhhh! He's on his own! Kitt chuckled to himself.  
  
Shooting arrows was not at all like Kitt had expected. The first few arrows went above the target missing it altogether! He tried to compensate for the difference and found that his arrows scraped the ground and landed mid-way to the target. The fifth arrow was headed directly toward the bulls-eye, but a gust of wind pushed it just enough to redirect it to the outer most circle. Finally after shooting 12 arrows, Kitt ended up with only 3 actually hitting the target and none of them made it to the center circle.  
  
On the other hand, Michael seemed completely in his element. He shot 4 bulls-eyes, 3 other arrows hit the second inner most circle, 2 hit the outer most circle and only 2 others sailed smoothly over the line of targets.  
  
"I don't understand, Michael," Kitt said desperately. "I've never missed before. Every laser I ever shot hit my targets dead-on! What am I doing wrong? My programming is not adjusting correctly to the parameters I have reset."  
  
"You're fine, pal," Michael comforted Kitt. "You have more variables to work with now. Don't forget, you have to adjust for the wind velocity and direction, position of your arms, and the tension on the string of your bow, not to mention the differences in every individual arrow."  
  
"What's that?" Kitt asked incredulously. "Differences in every arrow?" Kitt remained silent for a moment considering the facts Michael had just described.  
  
"Michael," Kitt began. "The probability of shooting a perfect bull's-eye is nearly impossible when you consider the ranges of variables involved in this sport. It's a complete and utter gamble!"  
  
"Listen Kitt," Michael began. "It isn't all that complicated. Can you hit the bull's-eye with a laser?"  
  
"Of course Michael, don't be silly," Kitt replied. With a quick squint of his eyes, a short blast of a blue laser beam instantly burnt a hole in the dead center of the bull's-eye on the first target.  
  
"Not bad!" Michael declared. "Now, examine an arrow. You need to compare it to what you know would be a perfectly calibrated arrow of the same properties then adjust your aim to allow for the effects of the flaws in the arrow. Got it old buddy?"  
  
"Thank you Michael," Kitt replied thoughtfully.  
  
"No problem, pal," Michael answered amicably.  
  
"Pardon me, but isn't that Jake Blakely approaching us with those quivers and bows?" Kitt said, pointing in the direction of the crowds across the field.  
  
Jake was hobbling toward them wavering unsteadily underneath the uneven weight he was bearing. Over his shoulders he was carrying 3 quivers of arrows and 3 bows.  
  
Michael immediately ran up to Jake to help him with the three sets of bows and arrows.  
  
"Let me give you a hand with those Jake," Michael offered.  
  
"Thanks Michael," Jake said as he handed Michael a quiver of blue arrows.  
  
"You two get warmed up enough to give me a run for my money?" Jake teased Michael and Kitt.  
  
Warmed up? Running for money? Kitt wondered. This is going to be more complicated than I thought. Visions of running across the field while shooting arrows flashed in his mind.  
  
"Michael, I don't know if I'm ready for this," Kitt said uneasily.  
  
"You'll be fine, 'ol buddy. Just remember what I told you," Michael said calmly.  
  
"Don't tell me you're going to use the Getaway's equipment!" Jake said in mock disgust.  
  
"Sure, why not?" asked Kitt, scratching his chin, thoughtfully. "What's the difference?"  
  
"Well, my boy," Jake explained smiling, "It's like this, using their equipment is like using the banged-up bowling balls and worn-out rented shoes at the bowling alley. They're injured, dented, and just plain inferior because they've been used to death. Just look at that set you got there!"  
  
Jake pulled an arrow from Kitt's quiver and held it up for Kitt to examine.  
  
"Just look at these here feathers, worn, bent and twisted," Jake said firmly. "How can you expect to hit anything with this? The thing'll fly like its got a mind of its own. Have you tried it? I'll bet it doesn't soar like mine. And that's because they've been bruised and battered. I'd say their ready to retire, wouldn't you?" Jake said, looking directly at Kitt.  
  
Kitt thought a moment. "You do have a point, Jake. These arrows are slightly bent and rather evasive in their flight," Kitt remarked.  
  
"Exactly!" Jake said with enthusiasm. "That's why I invested in my own set. You can never go wrong with yer own set. I have two sets and this here other set is Dora's. Say, if you'd like, I'll let you use my spare set. That would be this here blue set of arrows. I'll use my green set and Michael can use Dora's pink set, if he likes," Jake offered.  
  
"I think I'll just stick with this set, Jake," Michael replied. "Thanks for the offer though." Michael glanced suspiciously at the pink set of 'Dora's' arrows.  
  
"Why thank you Jake," Kitt said taking the blue set of arrows. Kitt removed one arrow and examined it closely.  
  
"What about Dora?" Michael asked. "Isn't she going to join us?"  
  
"Oh sure!" Jake answered. "We can shoot a few in the mean time though. No sense in waiting. You know how women can be. Chat, chat, chat! It's a wonder a man can get a word in edgewise. Makes ya wonder how they can hold a conversation between two of 'em, don't it?"  
  
Kitt didn't know what to say; the only woman he had regular contact with was April and she wasn't very chatty at all. In fact, Kitt considered her rather quiet. Since Michael smiled and remained silent, Kitt reasoned that that was the correct response; so he remained silent too.  
  
"Shall we begin?" Michael asked, politely stepping back and bowing to let Jake go first.  
  
"Oh, I never go first!" Jake answered quickly.  
  
"Why not?" Kitt asked curiously.  
  
"I like to see what kind of competition I'm up against first," Jake answered proudly. "It's kind of a bad habit I developed from shooting at the club. You two in a league or anything?" Jake asked suspiciously.  
  
"Oh no," Kitt answered quickly. "In fact I've never held a bow and arrow before today. I hope that's all right."  
  
"Heh heh, you can just learn from the 'ol pro here then," Jake said smiling. He gently patted Kitt on the shoulder. "Why don't you go first, sonny," Jake insisted.  
  
Kitt nodded and smiled. He took his shooting position and carefully removed the first arrow from the set Jake had lent him. Remembering what Michael had said about imperfect arrows, Kitt held the arrow up to be sure it was straight. Kitt was impressed. Not only was this arrow in pristine condition it appeared to have never been used. The arrow was perfectly straight and the feathers were smooth and crisp.  
  
Michael watched Kitt check the arrow. Out of the corner of his eye he observed the broad smile on Jake's face.  
  
Kitt set the arrow, aimed and released it. The arrow went sailing smoothly toward the first target, but just as it reached the target it tipped sharply downward and landed in the outer-most circle.  
  
Kitt was puzzled. The arrow was perfectly straight, he reasoned. It should have hit the target in the dead center of the bull's-eye.  
  
"Nice try Kitt," Jake said in a reassuring tone. "How about another?" he asked smiling excitedly.  
  
Kitt agreed to try again. He removed another arrow from the quiver and inspected this one more closely. This arrow, like the first was in pristine condition: straight, clean and sharp. He held the arrow up higher and inspected it more closely.  
  
"Something wrong?" Jake asked, nervously. Kitt said nothing and shot this second arrow. This time the arrow sailed toward the left before suddenly turning and spearing the bull's-eye perfectly in the center.  
  
Jake's jaw dropped open. He was clearly shocked.  
  
Kitt smiled. "That is more like it," he said. "Shall I shoot again, or do I defer to the next player?" he asked.  
  
Jake closed his mouth and quietly replied, "Go ahead, sonny. You're on a winning streak. Must be 'beginner's luck'. Are you sure you haven't shot before today? Are you joshing me?" Jake said eyeing Kitt more closely.  
  
Kitt shook his head slowly, "No sir."  
  
Kitt once again reached in, withdrew an arrow, examined it and shot. It sailed wildly to the right, but curved and landed alongside the arrow in the center of the target.  
  
Kitt turned and smiled at Jake and Michael, "How's that? Is that how it works?" he asked.  
  
Jake's jaw dropped open even wider this time. "Unbelievable!" he said in amazement. "How did you do that?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"Jake Blakely!" shouted Dora.  
  
Jake, Michael and Kitt swung around to see Dora approaching the three men shaking her fist angrily at Jake.  
  
"Jake!" Dora repeated more firmly than before. "Are those our blue arrows?" she asked accusingly.  
  
Jake smiled.  
  
"I'm sorry, Michael," Dora said as she pulled one of the arrows from the quiver Kitt was using. "These arrows are from the joke shop. They don't shoot straight. Jake is such a prankster I shouldn't let him out of the house!" Dora rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He used them on me yesterday!"  
  
Michael laughed and patted Kitt on the shoulder.  
  
Dora glanced at the target and her expression changed from annoyance to surprise. "Did you shoot those bull's-eyes with this set of arrows?" she asked incredulously.  
  
Kitt smiled, "Yes, ma'am. When I realized the arrows were unevenly weighted I compensated its effect on the arrows trajectory. I thought that was part of the challenge of the game."  
  
Dora burst out laughing, "Finally, someone beat Jake at his own game!"  
  
Jake's face turned a mild shade of red, "It was only supposed to be a joke. I really planned to lend them to Cleon, but you came along first," he admitted.  
  
"If you don't mind, may I continue to use these arrows instead of the other yellow ones?" Kitt asked politely. "They are much easier for me to aim," he explained.  
  
"Now I've heard everything!" said Dora, laughing.  
  
Jake smiled and shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sure sonny, go right ahead. I'd rather like to see how you shoot the rest of them arrows." 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Kitt rather liked archery, and shooting arrows with Michael and his friends proved to be an interesting experience. Michael was.... well Michael; an excellent marksman, and happy-go-lucky sort, Kitt observed. But somehow Michael seemed different to Kitt. What was it? He wondered. Had something changed?

Kitt searched his memory banks for an answer. No, Michael had not changed, Kitt realized. Kitt, himself, had changed. Not just from a computerized car into a computerized human, but something more than that.

Kitt's life as a car had been relatively simple. He belonged to Michael. They were a team. Kitt always protected Michael, provided technical information, every component and its function was designed to aid Michael. Anything that Michael needed could be had by simply asking Kitt. His job was simple. Kitt knew he was Michael's support system.

Kitt reflected on the past few hours with Michael. Michael drove _him_ in the car, led _him_ through the crowd and helped _him_ obtain the archery equipment. In fact, Michael had been advising, teaching, explaining and guiding _him _since they walked off the Knight Industries semi.

Suddenly Kitt realized what it was that had changed. Instead of Michael needing Kitt; Kitt now needed Michael. Kitt had always felt confident and knew exactly what to do because he had been programmed with the responses. But now there was a new set of rules. Things that were simple, orderly and straight-forward were now much more complicated. And now, Michael wasn't needing help, he was giving it. Michael was helping Kitt because Kitt **_needed_** help.

Was that so bad? Kitt wondered. Maybe not, he reasoned, but he wasn't so sure he liked it. Is this what it means to be human; to need others?

"Looky here, sonny!" Jake called to Kitt. Jake had finished his turn and compared his scores with Kitt's. "Yer better 'n me!" Jake said gleefully. "And to think you did it with my joke arrows!" he exclaimed.

Dora stepped up alongside Kitt and handed him a glass of apple juice. "Care for some apple juice, Kitt?" she said sweetly.

"Thank you, Dora," Kitt said kindly as he took the glass of apple juice from her. "You are very kind to think of me," he added.

Dora's face beamed with pleasure. "You're such a gentleman, Kitt. It is a pleasure," she said patting his left arm gently. "I must say," she said softly as she leaned in closer to Kitt, "you've got quite a knack for shooting targets. Say, if you're not involved, I'd love to introduce you to a lovely lady friend of mine," she said eagerly.

Kitt wasn't sure how to respond. A lady? Dora wanted to introduce him to a lady? Kitt was stunned.

"Oh Dora, now don't you go meddling in this young man's life," Jake grumbled, "I'm sure he's got better things to do than ..."

"Hi everyone!" Jake was interrupted by the cheery sound of Cleon's voice.

Everyone turned to see Cleon walking toward them with an attractive dark-haired woman in her mid-forties.

"Hi, Cleon! Hi Lena!" called Dora, who immediately left Kitt to welcome the couple.

"I hope we're not too late," Lena apologized. "I'm afraid they had me working overtime on another new project."

"I'm so glad you were able to make it, Lena," Dora said warmly. "Why don't you come on over to our table by the archery targets," she said as she led them back toward Jake, Michael and Kitt.

Cleon, Lena and Dora joined the others.

"Welcome back Cleon," Michael said warmly. "This lovely lady must be Lena," Michael said smiling. "I'm Michael Knight, an old friend of Cleon's."

Lena smiled and nodded her head, "Nice to meet you Michael," she said.

Kitt frowned and stared at Michael, loudly clearing his throat.

"Oh yeah," Michael said quickly. "May I introduce my friend, Kitt Kent," he added.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Kitt said politely, still holding the untouched glass of apple juice in his hand.

"Michael was Cleon's little apprentice years ago," Dora commented smiling sweetly.

"Yes Lena, Michael came here on vacation years ago as a young boy," Cleon explained. "I sort of adopted the little fella and showed him a few things. He was a very bright kid with a keen eye. I'm anxious to see if he still 'has it'," Cleon laughed.

"It's true," Michael agreed, smiling. "Cleon taught me everything I needed to know about skilled marksmanship. It was because of Cleon's patient instruction I left here knowing what I wanted to do with my life. He took me under his wing, so to speak and spent much of his free time practicing with me and teaching me. I left here with a burning desire to become the sharpest marksman and finest policeman there ever was."

"How did your parents take to the idea of your being a policeman? Wasn't your dad an insurance man?" asked Dora.

"Unfortunately my parents didn't take to the idea too well," answered Michael. "Being in insurance certainly didn't help his perspective on a career in police work for his only son, but I don't think he believed my interest would hold. In fact, I am sure he hoped it wouldn't."

Kitt listened closely as Michael recounted the story to the small group.

"I remember the ride home from here like it was yesterday," Michael began. "We were all packed-up and heading down the highway. Mom was reading, totally absorbed in some murder-mystery novel while Dad listened to a baseball game on the radio."

"I sat in the backseat and day-dreamed," said Michael as he continued. His gaze focused somewhere off in the distance. I imagined I was the Sheriff protecting my town from 'the bad guys'. I took my black, plastic water-gun and aimed at an imaginary group of train robbers. In my mind's eye, there were seven of them and I was on board the train, ready to blow them away. Taking careful aim at the closest one I yelled, "Take that!" and pulled the trigger of my 'empty' water gun totally unaware that there was still water in the plastic tubing of the gun. I shot my father directly in the back of his head. He screamed and swerved off the road. Some of the water had splattered on my mom's book and she jumped throwing her book out her open window."

Everyone laughed but Kitt.

"Michael, what happened?! Did your father crash?" asked Kitt.

Michael seemed to snap out of his trance. "No, we were fine. There was no other traffic and there isn't much along the highway to crash into. But my Dad did have a few strong words to say to me," Michael said. "I tried to explain to him that it was an accident, and I hadn't known there was any water in the gun, but all I got back was a lecture on the danger of handling loaded weapons. He was furious. He took my water gun and threw it out of the car. I was very upset and started crying. Mom managed to calm Dad and insisted that we talk everything out before getting back on the road. She was raised to believe that hard feelings should be dealt with before they fester."

Michael paused for a moment before continuing, "At that point, I told my parents that Cleon taught me everything about shooting. I explained that Cleon had said I had a "keen" eye and even nicknamed me "Long-shot" for my long-distance hits. I explained that Cleon knew all about shooting because he was a policeman and had earned 'marksmanship' trophies. I told them I was going to be a policeman just like Cleon when I grew up and would rid the world of 'bad guys'. Both my parents patiently listened to what I had to say and then told me that they thought that I was just over-excited from our vacation and my interest in guns and shooting would wane when the next interesting thing came along," finished Michael.

"Little did they know," commented Kitt.

"My parents finally did accept it when I graduated from the police academy," said Michael smiling. "In fact, my dad gave me a shiny new plastic water gun as a graduation gift."

Everyone laughed out-loud.

Dora glanced at the yet untouched glass of apple juice in Kitt's hand. "Is something wrong with the apple juice, Kitt?" she asked with concern.

Kitt stared expressionless at the glass. "I don't believe so," he answered, peering closely into the glass.

"Oh then, go ahead and drink," Dora urged. "You needn't wait," she said gently.

In one steady, long swallow, Kitt emptied the entire glass of apple juice. He smiled, licked his lips and eagerly held his empty glass out toward Dora, "Thank you, Madam."

Dora smiled politely and took the glass from Kitt. "I'll get you some more Kitt, you look very thirsty," she said. "Anyone else care for a nice cool glass of apple juice?" she asked as she reached over for the pitcher.

"I'll take one, Dora," Lena called. "I'm famished. Has everyone eaten?" she asked.

"They have the most delicious barbecued spare ribs here, Lena," Cleon replied. "Would you like me to get you some?" he offered.

Lena smiled and nodded appreciatively.

"Barbecued spare ribs?" Kitt asked with interest.

Michael smiled, "The very best!"

"Why don't we all head over to the buffet tables then?" Dora suggested.

As they made their way to the buffet tables, Michael pulled Kitt aside. "How was the apple juice?" he asked curiously.

Kitt smiled, "Nothing like gasoline or engine coolant, Michael. No gas fumes and much cooler in temperature. The ingredients are: water, apple juice concentrate, and ascorbic acid. One hundred ten calories, zero fat, thirty-five milligrams of sodium, twenty-eight grams sugar and zero protein."

"How did you _like_ it?" Michael asked.

"Like it?" Kitt asked, puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"When you _like_ something you are satisfied, pleased, even desire more of it," Michael explained.

"Oh, I see, Michael," Kitt said thoughtfully. "I like Beethoven, Mozart and Bach, but I don't like flying, salt water or car crushers," he said firmly.

"You're getting it, old buddy," Michael said assuredly. "By the way, next time, drink your juice in shorter sips," he added.

"Michael, there is one thing that puzzles me," Kitt remarked.

"What is that?" Michael asked.

"Well Michael, Jake told me to speak loudly into Cleon's ear because he is hard of hearing, but that doesn't appear to be necessary," said Kitt.

Michael nodded. "Jake told me the same thing, Kitt. But, when I nearly gave Cleon a heart attack by speaking loudly into his ear unexpectedly. Cleon explained the situation to me. A while back, when Cleon was on the police force, he was injured in an altercation that resulted in some hearing loss. He was given a hearing aid, but refused to wear it because it was uncomfortable. He managed by reading lips and asking people to repeat themselves,"

"But Michael, that can be very dangerous," Kitt replied.

"Yes it can be and it **_was_**," Michael continued, "One night Cleon fell asleep while dinner was cooking on the stove. The alarm went off, but he didn't hear it. Some guests who were staying at the Inn heard the alarm and called the Fire Department. They arrived in time and there was minimal damage to the stove and kitchen. Thank God no one was hurt. The next day Cleon made an appointment to be tested for a new hearing aid. It turns out that Kontec's Medical Division develops new, state-of-the-art medical supplies, among other things. They just came out with self-adjusting hearing aids that are supposed to be very inexpensive and extremely comfortable. Cleon's doctor arranged for Cleon to be a tester for the new hearing aids!"

"I don't understand, Michael. Doesn't Jake know that Cleon wears a hearing aid now?" Kitt asked.

"I don't know, it is very new," Michael explained. "Cleon told me he has tested several different hearing aids over the past month and will receive his final pair of hearing aids tomorrow."

"Pair?" asked Kitt, "Why two, if only the left ear is having problems?"

"Cleon explained that the technology of the new hearing aids operates in such a way that the two aids work together to amplify sounds for perfectly matched, natural hearing," answered Michael.

"Michael, are all humans reluctant to replace their body parts when they are failing?" Kitt asked. "That doesn't make sense. My newer parts are always better and more efficient, an improvement on my original ones."

"Well, Kitt," Michael hesitated before answering. "Your replacements and enhancements are mechanical, non-living pieces of equipment. For you there is no pain, financial expense or threat of death involved. If any new part doesn't work correctly, it is merely a matter of repairing and replacing."

Kitt agreed with what Michael was saying.

"With people it is different," Michael explained. "Many people are discouraged by the pain involved with recovering from surgery. Others can't afford the expense of medical procedures. And often the fear of complications and death deter people from ever considering it at all."

"Humans are very complicated Michael," Kitt concluded.

"Kitt, there is a basic difference between humans and robots," Michael explained. "Man is alive physically and spiritually. Robots are activated. When man dies, he ceases to live in his physical body but continues to live in his spiritual body. Robots are activated; they can be deactivated and reactivated, but their existence remains solely physical. Man chooses, robots obey."

"Michael, man does not always make efficient choices. His decisions are muddled by fear and emotions," Kitt argued. "Robots make quick efficient decisions."

"Then why do robots need man?" Michael asked Kitt, grinning.

"Let's go get some spare ribs, Michael," Kitt replied.

"Follow me, old buddy," Michael said heading toward the buffet tables.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Returning to their seats at the picnic table, Michael and Kitt joined the others, who were in the midst of enjoying the food on their plates. With their paper plates heavily laden with spare ribs smothered in barbecue sauce, Michael and Kitt settled comfortably into their seats.

Kitt glanced at the others at his table, in wonder, not sure where to begin. Although April programmed him to be able to process different food textures and consistencies, he was at a loss at to where to being and how to handle this particular food. Guzzling gasoline is surely a lot simpler than trying to tackle this sloppy, chunk of meat on a bone, thought Kitt. He noticed Lena took a knife and fork to her spare ribs. With ease, she carefully carved the meat from its bone in smooth, even, rhythmic motions. Cleon ate his ribs with his bare hands, noted Kitt. Barbecue sauce dripped sloppily from the ribs and back onto Cleon's plate as he devoured his food with pleasure. He paused after a few bites to wipe his sauce-covered mouth and fingers and resumed his eating with renewed delight.

"You okay, buddy?" Michael asked.

Kitt turned his attention to Michael, who was seated beside him. He was holding a half-eaten rib in one hand and an open can of Pepsi in the other. Kitt noticed that, like Cleon, Michael had chosen to eat his ribs with his fingers, but seemed to be having an easier time of it, as he was not nearly as smothered as Cleon.

"I'm fine, Michael," Kitt replied staring at Michael's sauce-coated fingers.

Suddenly Michael smiled. "Just pick it up and eat it, old buddy," Michael coaxed. "That's all there is too it," he said trying to sound encouraging.

As everyone's attention turned to Kitt, he decided to take Lena's approach to the ribs and quickly grabbed his knife and fork. Trying to imitate Lena, Kitt stabbed the thickest spare rib on his plate. Unfortunately, he struck a boney part of the rib and sent the rib sailing off his plate into Cleon's face and landing smack in the middle of Cleon's mountain of mashed potatoes.

Everyone burst out laughing as a shocked Cleon wiped his face clean.

"Thanks for the rib, Kitt," Cleon said good-naturedly, as he extracted the rib from his mashed potatoes and began devouring his gift.

"That's okay, Kitt," Michael said calmly, as he wiped the barbecue sauce off his fingers and lips. "That is precisely why I eat 'em this way," he said with a broad smile, as he delicately lifted the last rib from his plate. Holding the sloppily dripping rib with two fingers of each hand, he then extended his pinkie fingers and elbows outward and began a steady pace of little nibbles across the length of the slender piece of meat.

"Are you coming up for air, Michael?" Kitt said flatly, having no desire to follow Michael's example.

"Haven't you ever eaten barbecue spare ribs?" Lena asked Kitt.

"No ma'am," Kitt answered politely. "I keep to a rather strict and simple diet, nothing like these sloppy, spicy concoctions," he explained.

"Well, I say 'you only live once'!" shouted Jake as he held up a large spoonful of Mexican Spicy Hot Chili and emptied it into his mouth in one smooth movement.

"Go ahead, Kitt" Lena urged, "It really is delicious," she said gently.

With all eyes upon him, Kitt felt he had no choice but to oblige. So, he carefully picked up the smallest spare rib on his plate and took a small bite being careful not to bite into the bone. Hmmmm, he thought. What is this? He immediately began analyzing the barbecue sauce's ingredients; oil, spices, tomato paste, salt, garlic powder, molasses, distilled vinegar.

"How does it taste? I mean do you like it? Would you like more?" Michael asked.

"Michael, all of these spices and ingredients in the sauce are totally unnecessary," Kitt replied. The meat on the rib is sufficient protein for energy, but in answer to your question, I find the taste a bit severe, but interesting. I can see why you like it, Michael." Kitt took another bite and added, "Yes, a bit severe, but VERY interesting!"

Michael laughed and nodded his head in agreement as he lifted his empty Pepsi can to his lips and shook the remaining drops of Pepsi into his mouth.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal burst out through the facilities' loud speakers, followed by a deep hum that quickly faded away.

"May I have your attention please?" A youthful-sounding feminine voice bellowed loudly from the speakers. "Would Miss Lena Marino come to the Managers Office right away? I repeat, Miss Lena Marino please come to the Managers Office. Thank you."

"What's this all about, Lena?" Cleon asked curiously. "Want me to go with you?" he offered, rising to his feet.

Lena shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "No, that's okay, Cleon," she answered reassuringly. "I'm sure it's nothing." She leaned forward and gently kissed Cleon on the cheek.

Disappointed, Cleon nodded sadly and dropped slowly back into his seat.

"Say, Cleon, Why don't you all head over to the Music Hall?" Lena suggested. "I'll meet up with you there. Okay?" she asked.

"Okay, Lena," Cleon replied.

"What's this about a Music Hall?" Jake asked Cleon.

Cleon reached into his pocket and pulled out the brochure listing The Getaway's Grand-opening's activities. Glancing over the listings Cleon's eyes quickly spied the Music Hall. "Says here that **_'Class Action'_** is tonight's featured rock band. Concert begins at 8:00 pm followed by refreshments with an opportunity to meet the band members," Cleon announced excitedly.

"**_Class Action_**? Would that be the band with Stephanie March?" Kitt asked Cleon, turning to eye Michael suspiciously. "How peculiar. I understood that they were still on tour out of the country," he commented flatly. "Might you have known something about this, Michael?" he added not waiting for a reply from Cleon.

Cleon glanced from Kitt to Michael. Dora and Jake exchanged puzzled looks, curious what this was all about.

Michael uneasily looked down at the palms of his hands before speaking. "Okay Kitt, I knew but I wasn't sure. I mean I had read it in a magazine advertisement, but ..."

Michael paused to get a grip on the emotions that were beginning to surface as memories of his beloved Stevie flooded his mind. The memories of her were so real; he could still feel her as the part of him that made him complete. To wrap his arms around her delicate, slender frame, hold her tight, inhaling her scent and kissing her soft, smooth skin, was intoxicating. He melted at the sight of her; lost himself in her loving blue eyes and silky long flowing golden hair that glistened brightly in the sun. Snapshots of their 5 years together flooded his mind. In his mind's eye, he saw her laughing at his silly jokes and crying at those old romantic films he pretended not to like. He saw the tears of joy she cried when he gave her that necklace; the gold necklace that symbolized their forever love in the shape of a heart encompassing 5 small dangling diamonds. They were engaged to be married and every day held the promise of their love building stronger bringing them closer then even they could imagine. That is until the accident that changed everything; when he became Michael Knight and everyone he knew grieved Michael Long's death, including Stevie.

Michael uncomfortably shifted position aware of the growing curiosity his discomfort was evoking from those around him. He looked upward as he bit his lip and took a deep breath. Facing Kitt again, he gently grabbed hold of both his shoulders and looked him squarely in the face. "Kitt, I'm sorry," he said, "I should have told you, but I didn't know what to tell you. I still don't. I just need to see her."

More memories flooded his mind. In the beginning, he focused completely on his work and new life at FLAG. He was born to help others. Immersing himself in a life of protecting and defending others was natural to him, in fact it was exhilarating. He was able to accept his new life and even thrive in it. That is, until Stevie's picture showed up on the newspaper's front page. Able to convince Devin to allow him (through FLAG) to help protect her, Michael was reunited once again with Stevie. Her questions and suspicions were hard to dissuade, as she had correctly suspected that he was indeed her Michael Long. Their time together was sweet, but brief. He grieved deeply at the memory of her sad, forlorn, tear-filled eyes peering out at him from the car's rear window as she was carried away... out of his life and into anonymity through the federal witness protection program. After she had disappeared from sight, he discovered she knew his true identity. Placed carefully in Kitt's glove compartment was the heart necklace he had given to her. She had left it behind to return it to him.

"You mean all this is about a girl?" Dora asked excitedly as she rushed toward Michael to give him a hug. "Michael, that's wonderful! Who is she?"

Michael warmly received Dora's hug with a smile. She reminded him so much of his own mother.

"Michael, you mean you know Stephanie March personally?" Cleon asked in disbelief.

Stephanie March, Michael sighed quietly, remembering their last encounter. His assignment had been by request from a 'Miss March' of the rock band, **_Class Action_**. It was just another assignment, but from the first glimpse of her at the piano, his breath was taken away. There was no denying that his feelings resurfaced. She was out of the witness protection program and now the female vocalist for a popular rock band. Michael's assignment was to help solve lead singer Greg Noble's murder. Going undercover, as Greg Noble's replacement in the band, worked beautifully to solve the case and brought Stevie and Michael closer together again. Although Michael had been willing to give up his work at the foundation to go with Stevie; she would not allow him to make that great a sacrifice for her. She left the country and Michael to go on tour with **_Class Action_**. That heart-wrenching good-bye was that last time he saw her. The last image he had of her was blurred by his own tear-filled eyes.

"Whoa! Just a minute everyone," Michael said calmly, raising his hands as he backed away. "I really don't want to get into this right now, okay?" he answered trying not to sound emotional.

It had been almost a year since he had said good-bye to Stevie. Once again he had tried to throw himself into his work in an effort to keep his mind off of her. This time it was harder. He wondered, Was working at the Foundation worth losing Stevie? It was excruciatingly difficult. He began to feel like the doctor who spends his days curing desperately ill patients, but he himself suffers from a malady he cannot cure. That is, until the day he saw an advertisement in this month's Rock-n-Roll Music magazine. This full page colorful advertisement caught Michael's attention at first glance. In this ad, The Getaway announced its Grand-Opening festivities featuring several contemporary popular music bands expected to perform. The Opening Day schedule listed **_Class Action_** as the first band to perform in their newly constructed Music Hall.

"What do you say we all head over to the Music Hall then?" suggested Cleon studying the map on the brochure he was holding.

"Alright then," said Michael, as he rubbed his hands together with renewed determination. "It's this way," he added, taking a few steps in the direction in which Lena had gone a few moments earlier.

"You sure?" asked Cleon. He looked up at Michael and back at the map, not convinced Michael knew his way around.

Kitt glanced at Michael's face, now bearing that familiar self-satisfied, over-confident smile. "Affirmative, Cleon. He is quite sure," Kitt replied.

Cleon looked up from the map and nodded in agreement.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Settling into their seats, Michael anxiously looked around the room. He was pleased that they arrived before too many seats were taken. He noticed that no expense was spared in designing and decorating this theatre. It was impeccably decorated. The walls were covered with the finest burgundy-colored velvet wallpaper that complemented endless rows of tiered, oversized cushioned seats, carefully arranged for optimum viewing. Virtually every seat had a clear view of the stage, which appeared to be partitioned off from the audience by a thin clear protective wall of what appeared to be glass or plastic. That is odd, Michael thought. The lighting above the stage was beyond anything Michael had ever seen. There appeared to be multiple lights focused on every square inch of the entire stage. Along the floor, at the base of the partition, appeared to be a single long row of small light fixtures, that appeared to be aimed toward the center of ceiling above the stage.

It wasn't long before the theatre was filled to capacity and the room buzzed with the sounds of people chattering and settling into their seats. Lena hadn't arrived yet, but Cleon made sure to save her a seat, hoping for the best.

Suddenly the lights on the stage brightened and the Manager of The Getaway slowly walked onto center stage. A hush fell as the audience became aware of the Manager's presence on stage. Holding a wireless microphone, he began his introduction.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Let me introduce myself. I am Tony Marino the Manager of The Getaway. Welcome to our first concert here in the Music Hall. Thank you for coming, we hope you enjoy the show. I'd like to invite you all to meet with the band in the lobby for autographs and refreshments following the show. We here at the Getaway, are pleased to present to you the band, **_Class Action_**."

As everyone clapped, the lights dimmed and Tony Marino made a brisk exit off the stage and out of view.

The band members appeared and quickly took their places on stage. As the clapping died down, the floor lights brightened and in moments the theatre filled with the up-beat, melodic notes of the first song.

Michael's eyes set firmly on the only female band member the moment she came into view. She was dressed in a shimmering gold, satin, blouse and matching skirt ensemble that accentuated the virtues of her petite figure. Her long, flowing, wavy, blonde hair bounced lightly with her every step.

"It IS her!" Michael said breathlessly, immediately captivated by her presence.

Her make-up accentuated her deep blue eyes as she glanced at the audience and then focused her full attention on the lead male singer standing next to her.

Michael's heart pounded. He couldn't take his eyes off her, wanting to absorb her every movement.

Focusing on Stevie, the lead singer crooned the words of a familiar love song....

"_Here we are alone at last  
Face to face with no distractions  
Reaching out each of our separate world  
Everything happened so fast  
What could have been a chain reaction  
Who can say where it might be tonight, oh oh, oh"_

As Stevie joined in, the pair appeared to be lost in a world all their own, singing passionately of spending their first night together. There was no denying the chemistry between the two singers. Michael immediately recognized this song as one he had performed with Stevie last year and suddenly found himself wishing it were he that was on the stage with Stevie. As the songs continued, Michael sat mesmerized by Stevie's performance.

Feelings of anger and jealousy began to rise, giving way to disappointment as Michael realized that Stevie may have moved on to a new love. He had to see her and talk with her. He had to know.

All too soon the last song ended and the band exited the stage. The house lights brightened and the crowd thinned as people poured out of the theatre.

Lena had arrived sometime during the concert and was now lost in conversation with Cleon explaining something about technical problems with holographic equipment behind the stage.

Jake was busy complaining to Dora about the unnatural and dangerous effects of loud rock music on the human ears thus arousing Kitt's interest.

"Classical music is much more soothing and uplifting. I prefer Beethoven or Mozart myself," Kitt commented to Jake matter-of-factly.

Michael stood up and stretched. "You would say that Kitt," Michael said snidely, instantly regretting his caustic tone.

"Michael, are you alright?" Kitt asked, taking a quick scan of Michael's vital signs. "Didn't you enjoy the concert?" he asked.

"Of course he did," Cleon interjected, slapping Michael on the back playfully. "What do you say we go meet the band now?" Cleon asked the group.

"Yes, Michael. I'm anxious to see Stephanie again," Kitt answered facing Michael.

"Me too, old buddy. Me too," Michael agreed, patting Kitt on the shoulder.

Cleon led the group out of the theatre into the lobby area. Two large serving tables displayed an assortment of refreshments. Several small tables with chairs were scattered throughout the center of the lobby. A long table with four chairs was set up at the far end of the lobby. A large white banner with the words **_Class Action_** hung on the wall above the table. The band members were busily autographing photographs for the long line of eager guests.

"Michael, do you recognize that woman in the corner near the entranceway?" Kitt asked.

Michael reluctantly pulled his attention from Stevie to the woman in the corner, an attractive raven-haired young woman in her mid-thirties. She was immaculately dressed in a flattering, stylish, navy-blue business suit. Talking angrily into her cell phone, the woman's miserable attempt to be discrete was failing.

"That is unacceptable! I want this taken care of tonight!" she growled into the phone before slapping it shut.

Just then Tony Marino appeared. He frantically looked around the lobby and hurried over to the angry woman. Apologizing profusely, he handed her a slip of paper and followed her as she stormed out of the room.

"Not a happy camper," Michael commented turning his attention back to Stevie and the line that was beginning to diminish. He was anxious to get near her.

"Michael," Kitt repeated slowly. "That woman is Konstance Packard."

"Huh?" Michael mumbled, returning his gaze to Kitt. "Why does that name sound familiar?" he asked.

"Konstance Packard formerly known as Konstance Knight is the 2nd wife of the late Wilton Knight, benefactor of F.L.A.G." Kitt explained.

"hmmm, interesting," Michael commented, not really paying attention to Kitt.

"Michael, why don't you get in line and talk to her already," Kitt urged. "We'll wait here."

"Why don't you all get some refreshments, while I have a word with Stevie?" Michael suggested as he stepped away making a b-line to Stevie.

Dora, Jake, Cleon and Lena wandered over to the refreshments smiling and chatting amicably amongst themselves, while Kitt remained where he was monitoring the situation with Michael.

The line had dwindled down to the last few and Michael was the last in line. He had planned on being the last to have her attention so that he could have her to himself.

Finally the moment was here. He stepped forward as the person in front of him moved aside. He smiled down at her waiting patiently, as she signed her name to a large glossy photograph taken from the stack beside her.

"Whom shall I make this out to?" she asked as she looked up into his eyes.

Michael rested his hands on the table and leaned forward bending down closer to her. "Stevie, its me," he said expectantly.

Stevie looked quizzically into Michael's eyes, "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Stevie, it's me, Michael," he answered, sensing something was wrong. Why is she looking at me like that? He wondered.

"Oh yes, nice to see you again, Michael," she said quickly, handing him the signed photograph and rising to her feet.

"Stevie, listen, can we talk?" he asked. Sensing her uneasiness he attributed it to the awkwardness of having her new beau seated beside her.

"I'm sorry, I must go," she said quickly as she stepped away from the table toward the door.

Stunned, Michael was speechless by her reaction and abrupt behavior. "Wait!!!" he called after her as she slipped out the door and into the darkness.

Michael turned to chase after her, but was held back by the man presumed to be Stevie's new beau. "I think you should let her be," he said firmly.

"This doesn't concern you," Michael said firmly as he ripped from the man's grasp and escaped into the night.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the evening, he quickly looked about for any sign of Stevie. There were scattered groups of people here and there, but no sign of her.

As Michael stepped back into the lobby, Kitt approached him.

"Did you get to talk with Stevie?" Kitt asked. "It doesn't appear to have gone well."

"No, Kitt, it didn't go well. She didn't even recognize me! Something is wrong around here, Kitt, and I am going to find out what it is," Michael declared.

"Michael, do you know who that man is, I mean the lead singer?" Kitt asked.

Michael quickly glanced around, trying to locate him. "He's not here," Michael answered, "Do you know who he is?" Michael asked, wondering what Kitt was getting at.

"Well Michael, he appears to be Greg Noble, the lead singer of the group **_Class Action_**," Kitt began.

"Wait a minute," Michael said, slowly realizing what was wrong. "Isn't he the guy that was murdered last year?"

"Yes, Michael. That is correct. In fact, you solved his murder by taking his place in the band," Kitt announced. "How can this be?" he asked.

"That's what I want to know, Kitt. That's exactly what I'm gonna find out!" he answered with a look of determination.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Isn't it beautiful?" Lena whispered quietly into Cleon's ear, as she snuggled closer, underneath his arm.

Cleon nodded in agreement, admiring the magnificent beauty of the starry sky on a cloudless night.

Dora and Jake settled quietly on two comfortable looking deck chairs nearby, growing weary from the lateness of the hour.

Michael and Kitt joined the others already assembled at the empty field beside the Music Hall, awaiting the fireworks display.

"Any luck?" Cleon asked.

"Nope. The manager wasn't in his office and his assistant says the band is gone for the night. Claims he doesn't know where they are staying," Michael replied.

"Michael, I believe he was lying," Kitt replied.

"I'm sure he was, Kitt," Michael agreed.

"Do you mind if I ask what is going on?" Lena asked gently. "In the lobby, you only mentioned that you had some kind of misunderstanding with the band members. I don't mean to pry, but if there is anything I can do, I'd like to help."

"I really need to speak with the band members," Michael said, looking deeply into Lena's eyes.

Lena looked away, dismayed. "I don't know..."

"Lena, please! Can you help me?" Michael asked tenderly.

Lena nodded slowly. "The manager, Tony Marino is my brother. Let me talk to him," she offered.

Nodding in agreement, Michael sighed a breath of relief, "That's great. I really appreciate it," he answered.

"I'll be right back," Lena said as she walked away.

As she disappeared into the Music Hall, the music emanating from the loud speakers suddenly grew louder; trumpets blared and drum rolls could be heard across the field. With each blast a burst of color exploded against the dark background. No one noticed as Kitt and Michael slipped away to follow Lena.

"Kitt, can you scan the Music Hall and see where she went?" Michael asked.

"Michael, there are three people in a back room behind the stage and another nearby," Kitt answered.

"Can you hear them?" Michael asked.

"I'm afraid not, Michael," Kitt answered, "Something is interfering with my reception. It appears to be originating from the roof of the Music Hall."

"Could it be the audio system?" Michael suggested.

"No, I don't think so Michael. It appears to be an energy source of which I am not familiar," Kitt explained. "I am sure once we get inside, the reception will be much clearer."

Entering through the lobby, Kitt immediately activated the audio function of his watch.

"Tony, I am sorry," a sobbing voice begged. "Please don't tell Miss Packard. I'll be more careful. No one knows anything! I'm sure," the voice muffled into sobs.

"Did you recognize him, Josh?" a familiar voice asked angrily.

"Michael, I recognize that voice. This voice pattern most definitely belongs to Tony Marino," Kitt concluded.

"I know I've seen him before, but I don't recall his name," answered Josh.

"Would you recognize his face?" Tony asked.

"I think so. Like I said I got a pretty good look at him at the reception in the lobby, when he was talking to Tina," Josh replied. "Perhaps if we both looked through the identification photos of today's guests we might recognize him."

"Okay, that sounds good," Tony reasoned.

Footsteps and a creaking floor were heard, followed by a heavy door squeaking open.

"Lena? What are you doing here?" Tony asked frantically. "Is something wrong? Are the holographic emitters not functioning again?"

"No, they are working fine," Lena said calmly. "I need to talk to you about **_Class Action_**. Someone is asking about them and I am not sure what you want me to say. I think perhaps you should talk to him."

"What does he want with **_Class Action_**, they are finished for the day," Tony insisted.

"An old friend of Cleon's wants to talk to the band. He says there was some kind of misunderstanding he wants to clear up. Something happened in the lobby that seems to have really upset him," Lena explained.

"Lena, did he say what happened?" Tony asked.

"No, not really, but it seems very important to him that he clears it up," Lena said thoughtfully.

"Tony, that sounds like the same guy!" Josh exclaimed.

"What is his name Lena?" Tony demanded.

"I know his first name is Michael, but I can't remember his last name," Lena said.

"Michael..... Michael..... hmmmm, can we do a search through the guest files?" Josh asked.

"'Tony, I really don't think all this is necessary. Why can't we just tell him about the holographic imaging systems? Lena asked. 

"Lena, please, we don't have the signed authorization release on **_Class Action_** back yet," Tony pleaded. "It's just a technicality, but with my record, you know what trouble I can get into if this gets out. Miss Packard is angry enough that the black light's stabilizers are offline again. Thank God you were able to field that call from the Foundation. What did you tell her again?"

"What is it with the black lights?" Lena asked. "I told April that they were harmless. And they are aren't they? Miss Packard said the black lights could not possibly harm anyone and everything was taken care of. I didn't know there was still a problem with the stabilizers. Do you know something I don't?" Lena demanded.

"No, nothing, of course not! Tony quickly insisted. "I don't have anything to do with research and development, that's your field!"

"Not anymore, I haven't worked on the black lights since they left the lab. Tony if there is a problem, I need to know about it so we can take them down and make the appropriate adjustments," Lena retorted.

"Listen; forget I mentioned the black lights or their stabilizers. And as far as anyone is concerned, **_Class Action_** isn't playing here, until further notice," Tony said firmly. "Don't make waves Lena, let it die. When this Michael person realizes that **_Class Action_** is not here, he will go home and forget about it. He is probably just some star-crazed fan," Tony explained, trying to convince himself as much as the others.

"Come-on, Tina, Josh. Let's check those photos. Maybe if we find out who this Michael is we can give the guy complimentary tickets to the World Series or something,"

"Michael, what do you make of this?" Kitt asked.

"Kitt, I think something stinks and we gonna sniff it out!" Michael said forcefully.

"Michael, must you use such a crass metaphor?" Kitt asked.

"Come with me," Michael suggested. "I want to get a good look at 'Josh' and 'Tina'."

They quickly slipped out the door into the shadows of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Well hidden in the shadows near the lobby door of the Music Hall, Michael and Kitt waited patiently.

"Kitt, scan the area and check to see if they are still coming this way," Michael whispered.

"Scans indicate that all four people are approaching the lobby door and headed this way," Kitt answered.

"Very good, here's the plan, Kitt," Michael began, "Go back through the door, when you reach it, I need you to stop Lena. I don't care what you do, just delay her long enough for me to get a good look at Josh and Tina and then slip back to the fireworks before I am missed."

"Michael, what should I say?" Kitt asked.

"I don't care. Anything. Make something up! I know.... Tell her you're looking for the men's room! Please, JUST KEEP HER AWAY!" Michael begged.

Kitt stepped out of the shadows and back onto the path leading to the lobby door of the Music Hall. Just as he reached for the door knob, the door swung open and nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Excuse me," Kitt said politely.

"Oh, Kitt!" Lena declared with surprise.

She stepped aside and allowed Tony, Josh and Tina to pass her and exit through the outside door.

Tony glanced curiously at Kitt, nodding politely but continued on his way; however, Tina and Josh passed by without even a glimpse. Josh walked with his arm around Tina protectively, who kept her head down, shielding her face with her hands.

"Kitt, where's Michael?" Lena asked looking worried.

"Oh, never mind him. He is back at the fireworks enjoying the show," Kitt answered. "Pardon me, I wonder if you could do me a favor," Kitt asked in his most courteous manner. "I noticed that my watch has slipped off my wrist and I was wondering if I may have a look about in the theatre. It may have dropped off during the concert."

Lena looked sympathetically at Kitt. "Sure Kitt, I'll need to turn on the house lights first," she said turning back to the theatre.

As they reached the seats they had previously occupied, Kitt looked along the floor and beneath the seat while Lena looked at the floor beneath the neighboring seats. After a few moments Kitt held up his wristwatch and proudly announced, "Here it is, Lena!"

Lena stopped her search and smiled happily, rising to her feet. "I'm glad you were able to find it. I recently lost a necklace that was very precious to me," she confided.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kitt apologized. "Were you able to find it?" he asked.

"No, unfortunately it was a one-of-a-kind antique necklace and I'm afraid it will never turn up," Lena explained sadly, "It used to belong to my mother."

Kitt waited for Lena to turn off the lights and lock up the Music Hall so they could head back together.

"I didn't realize you worked here, Lena," Kitt remarked, "What do you do?" he asked.

Lena smiled, "Actually, I work as a laboratory assistant at Kontec labs. Kontec has several test projects here that I supervise."

"Really?" Kitt asked. "What sort of projects do you work on? I understand Kontec is the most advanced research facility in the country. I am fascinated by new technology and the promises it has to offer the world. I truly believe there is great promise in the advancement of technology," Kitt said enthusiastically.

"I'm impressed," Lena responded, enjoying Kitt's interest. "Actually, my primary projects are automotive based. If you'd like to see the lab I'll give you a tour sometime. How would you like that?"

"Just name the time, and the day; I'll be there, Lena," Kitt replied.

"Hmmmm, how about after lunch tomorrow, say around 1:00?" Lena asked.

"That would be fine, I am looking forward to it," Kitt answered.

As they drew closer to their group, Kitt noticed that Michael had seated himself on a deck chair beside Dora and Jake, both of whom were fast asleep and snoring away. Cleon was nowhere to be found.

"Hey Lena," Michael called as he rose from the deck chair and approached her. "How did it go with your brother?" he asked smiling calmly, not betraying his ill-gotten knowledge.

"I'm afraid all he could tell me is that **_Class Action_** is not here and no future appearances are yet scheduled," Lena answered nervously looking around for Cleon.

"Is that so?" Michael commented looking directly into her face skeptically. He casually shifted position, resting his hands in his back pockets, expectantly

"Listen, Michael, I don't know what happened between you and **_Class Action_**, but I do know that some rock stars can be uppity and difficult with their fans. They are people with real problems, just like us. Everyone has an off night, just chalk it up to that and let it go. Don't take it personally. Okay?" Lena said trying to console Michael.

"Is that what you think?" Michael asked incredulously, "That I'm some kind of star-crazed fan who is upset because my 'Idol' mistreated me?!"

"Well, aren't you?" Lena asked tentatively, looking confused.

Michael briskly rubbed his face. Frustration, anger, grief, and desperation, welled up within him. Michael bit his lip. Taking a deep breath before speaking, Michael began again, "I am not some dejected fan whose idol has fallen. I'll have you know that I happen to be a very close friend of Stephanie March. Tonight when I saw her, she looked me right in the face and asked me who I was! She clearly had no recognition! I also happen to know that Greg Noble died last year, perhaps you can tell me how it is that he is resurrected from the dead to appear here for personal autographs?"

Lena looked genuinely worried. He was clearly getting to her. "How do you know these things?" she asked suspiciously.

"Lena, I came here to see Stephanie. Do you want to tell me what is going on here or do I have to find out for myself? Because I will. With or without your help. I'd rather have your help, but hey if you don't want to give it, I'll get to the bottom of this without you and you'll be dragged down in the process. I'd hate to see that happen because you're a sweet girl. So what do you say; are you going to level with me?"

"Michael, if I were to tell you that Stephanie is not and was not here, would that satisfy you?" Lena asked quietly.

"Lena, listen to me," Michael said tenderly with genuine affection. "You have got to level with me. I need the whole truth."

"Okay Michael, come to Kontec with Kitt tomorrow at one o'clock and I'll tell you everything I know. But Michael, I am telling you the truth. She isn't here," Lena said quietly.

Just then Cleon appeared. Wrapping his arm affectionately around Lena's shoulder, he drew her closer. "Hi, hon, did you just get back?" he asked.

Lena turned to face Cleon. "Yes. How are the fireworks going?" she smiled up at him.

"They're terrific. Listen, Jamison wants me to bring the Vega in tomorrow, thought maybe we can have lunch together. Say, if you like I'll pick up something special from Dora and we can have a picnic at Kontec? How about it?" Cleon suggested.

"That sounds wonderful, Cleon," Lena beamed. "You just got the car this afternoon, why does it need an adjustment? Is something wrong? Maybe I should have a look at it?"

"Oh no, the car is terrific, Lena. Jamison says he wants to upgrade the back-up battery. Something about a shorter recharge from the black lights,"

"Hmmmm, must have something to do with the stabilizers being down," Lena mumbled to herself.

"Lena! There you are!" shouted Jake, who was slowly approaching the small group with Dora in tow. "What's with all this loud music blasting from the loud speakers? I tell ya, these big shots think they can improve anything and everything including watching fireworks! I can't hear the fireworks!"

"Now, Jake, just because Lena's brother is the manager of the Getaway, doesn't mean that SHE has anything to do with the sound system here!" admonished Dora. "Never mind him Lena, he's just overtired."

"That's okay, Dora. I don't much care for the music accompaniment either," Lena answered.

"Michael, there is something very different about these fireworks tonight," said Kitt.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked.

"It is more than the piped-in background music," explained Kitt. "There are no fireworks here. What you see is a visual display being projected from the roof-top of the Music Hall, but not fireworks. By definition, fireworks are pyrotechnical exhibitions that use a mixture of chemicals to create explosions in the air. None of the commonly used inflammable materials such as gun powder and sulphur are being used here."

"That's incredible, Kitt," Dora remarked in astonishment. "How did you know that?"

"Gun-powder is a mixture of charcoal, sulfur and potassium nitrate. Since sulphur emits a distinct suffocating odor when it is burned its presence is easily detected," Kitt pointed out, matter-of-factly.

"I never noticed that," Dora answered. "Well then, if it isn't fireworks, what is it Kitt?"

"It appears to be projected light beams," Kitt replied.

"How can that be possible?" Dora asked Kitt.

"I'll tell you Dora. I'll bet it has something to do with Kontec! They have their hands in everything!" Jake grumbled.

"Jake, I wish you wouldn't say it that way," Lena moaned. "Kontec has our best interest in what they do for the town. And yes, Kontec did provide the fireworks display this evening. It is only one of the ways this town continues to benefit from the Kontec's tremendous technological advancements. Remember last year's fireworks accidents? Todd Riley and Joan Sorenson were hospitalized for weeks, suffering from severe burns. Tonight's fireworks displays are an example of scientific art in its safest form. Kontec has developed a holographic imagining process that virtually eliminates injuries associated with combustible pyrotechnic devices. I for one am grateful for Kontec's benevolent generosity. Most other companies are after the almighty dollar and expect the public to fend for themselves. Praise the Lord that Kontec looks out for the little guy who can't take care of himself."

"Let's not get into this again," Cleon suggested. "Why don't we call it a night, okay?"

"Sure Cleon," Lena agreed with a heavy sigh.

"Listen Michael, I gotta drop Lena home before we head back to the Inn. Would you like to come along or hang out here? I can swing by and pick you up on the way back if you prefer," Cleon suggested.

"Thanks, but don't worry, I'll hitch a ride from Kitt here," Michael said affably. "By the way, you got room for him at the Inn?"

"Not a problem, he can have his pick," Cleon responded. "Seems that most of the tourists prefer the luxury of a resort hotel than a small town Inn. Just see Todd at the desk and he'll get you all squared away, Kitt."

"Say, Michael, you and Kitt coming by for breakfast in the morning, aren't you?" Dora asked sweetly.

"Of course we are!" said Michael with enthusiasm. "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Kitt slowly opened the passenger-side door to the rental car provided by Devon. I'll never get used to this, he thought. He watched with envy as Michael slid into the driver's seat beside him.

Michael sat quietly thinking, staring blankly out the front windshield.

"Michael, do you believe Lena will tell us the truth tomorrow?" Kitt asked, interrupting Michael's thoughts. "She seems quite hesitant."

"I don't know Kitt," Michael said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I think she wants to open up, but something is holding her back. Tony mentioned something about waiting for a signed authorization form from **_Class Action_**. Authorization for what? Impersonating Greg Noble and Stevie? I wonder."

"Well, Michael, if Josh and Tina were impersonating Greg Noble and Stephanie without legal authorization, The Getaway could be facing criminal charges and fines," Kitt countered.

"Not to mention the bad effect that publicity would have on the reputation of a newly opened resort," Michael added. "But, as long as everyone believes that **_Class Action_** performed here tonight, no one would question the legalities of it."

"But Michael, it wouldn't be prudent for The Getaway to take such a risk. Perhaps the documentation is on its way as Tony says?" Kitt questioned.

"A brief search through Tony's files would answer that question," Michael reasoned. "I think we need to get into Tony's office. Scan the main building and see if anyone is in the Manager's office," Michael instructed.

"There is someone at the main receptionist desk and three people exiting the Manager's office," Kitt announced. .

"Perfect! Keep listening and tell me when the coast is clear," Michael commanded.

"Affirmative Michael," Kitt answered.

Michael looked around. All the guests had gone to their rooms or left. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Michael, it is time. As you say, 'the coast is clear'," Kitt stated, calmly. "Shall we go? he asked."

"We?" Michael asked surprised.

"Yes, Michael, don't you want me to come with you? We are a team, are we not?" Kitt asked uneasily. "I'm your back-up, Michael, what good am I here?" Kitt argued.

"I don't think so Kitt," answered Michael. "I just need to get in and get out. Nothing I haven't done a million times before."

"But Michael," Kitt argued, "I can be of more help in there than out here," he reasoned.

"Kitt, don't argue with me, I need you to be here and keep a look-out for me," Michael insisted. "I need you to do what you've always done, cover my back. I'll keep my com-link open, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Michael," Kitt replied sadly, "You're the boss."

Michael slipped quickly out of the car and was out of sight in a flash. He felt guilty about telling Kitt to wait in the car. Darn it, Kitt! You're not designed for this! Michael thought.

Michael slipped past the receptionist, unnoticed. Within moments, Michael found himself safely inside Tony Marino's dimly lit office. The first thing he noticed was Tony Marino's untidy desk. A disorganized collection of papers laid helter-skelter upon the desk. Skimming quickly through the assortment of loose papers, one letter caught his eye. It said:

Dear Mr. Marino,

This letter is to confirm receipt of your proposal relative to the band **_Class Action_**. Your proposal is currently being reviewed by our attorney and a decision will be forthcoming pending that review.

As we discussed previously, there continues to be unresolved issues regarding usage of video tapes that include the two previous band members Greg Noble and Michael Knight. Currently, Greg Noble's family has expressed interest in your proposal, but is as yet unwilling to accept the financial terms you have proposed. As to the latter issue, I am awaiting a response from Michael Knight.

As the Manager of the band **_Class Action_**, I am fully empowered and prepared to negotiate the financial terms of this agreement pending resolution of the aforementioned unresolved issues. I will contact you when I have more information.

Sincerely,

Stuart Manning, Manager

Michael quickly searched Tony's desk for a scrap piece of paper. Pens, pencils, paper clips, rubber bands, an eraser and assorted loose coins! Doesn't this man have a memo pad? Michael thought.

Pulling the drawer farther out, a lovely antique necklace slid forward. A necklace? Michael wondered. Why not? he thought. Lightly brushing it aside, Michael's eye caught sight of a small pad of paper. Finally!

As he removed the pad of paper from the drawer, Michael was surprised to find that the first sheet of paper was written on. Written neatly in large, bold, square letters was the same information printed on Michael's driver's license:

Michael Knight

2745 Ybarra Rd.

Nores, California

California license # 555-87-4529

Realizing that time was running out, he quickly tossed the pad back into the drawer and grabbed a loose blank envelope that caught his eye. Slamming the drawer shut, he scribbled Stuart Manning's name and phone number on it and quickly slipped it into his back pocket.

Michael spied the filing cabinet beside the desk and carefully eased the top drawer open. Flipping quickly past the first few file folders, Michael's eye caught sight of the folder labeled "**_Class Action_**". Here it is, Michael thought to himself. Carefully he laid the folder on top of the desk.

The file was filled with a conglomeration of assorted letters, photos, addresses and touring information. Michael spotted an 8 x 10 glossy photograph of Stevie. It had been taken at his first concert performance with her. Written on the back of the photograph was Stevie's personal information. Stevie's height, weight, eye and hair coloring was noted. Other personal facts included were her parents' names, hobbies, schools she attended and favorite songs. Michael was shocked at the detail of this information. Aside from a few errors, for the most part it was fairly accurate.

"Michael, someone just pulled into the parking lot. I think it is Tony Marino," Kitt warned.

"Thanks, Kitt," Michael answered, speaking softly into the com-link on his wrist-watch. "How much time do I have?"

"Not much, he is entering the building now," Kitt replied, softly.

"I'll have to stay put until he leaves," Michael answered. "If I'm not out in 10 minutes, create a distraction."

"Got it Michael," Kitt answered.

Just as Michael disappeared behind a large chair in a dark corner, the door to Tony's office squeaked open.

Tony burst into the room and rushed to his desk. "Where'd I put that necklace?" he grumbled, as he flicked on the switch lighting the area above his desk. He yanked open the center drawer of his desk, without taking a seat. "What a day!" He exclaimed. "Can it get any worse?" he mumbled.

Searching frantically through the desk Tony's hand brushed against the note pad in his drawer, sending it flying out of the drawer and onto the desk. It fell directly on the letter from Stuart Manning.

"Ah, here it is!" Tony said proudly as he pulled the necklace from the drawer. "Now where is that envelope?" He wondered aloud bending down trying to see farther into the drawer. Not finding it, he plopped down into his chair with a sigh. "I wonder if I left it in the car?" he murmured.

Tony rubbed his eyes wearily, leaning forward on his desk. As he removed his hands from his eyes, he noticed the note pad with Michael's address. Picking it up, he said aloud, "Now what am I going to do with you, Michael Knight?" He took a deep breath and slowly let it out before picking up the phone and dialing the operator.

"Jean?" Tony asked politely, sounding worn-out. "This is Tony. I need the room number for a guest. Can you look it up for me please? The name is Knight. Michael Knight."

After a brief pause, Tony spoke again. "Why am I not surprised!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Jean. No, there isn't anything else. Thanks."

Tony tossed the note pad back onto the desk. As it landed it forced several papers off the desk onto the floor in front of the desk.

"Argggg!!!" Tony moaned aloud as he rose from his chair and circled around to the front of the desk. The first paper he picked up caught his attention.

Michael watched closely as Tony slowly picked up the paper and read a portion of it aloud, "As_ we discussed previously, there continues to be unresolved issues regarding usage of video tapes that include the two previous band members Greg Noble and Michael Knight. _Michael Knight? Michael Knight was a **_Class Action_** band member? Just great!" he moaned.

Tony shook his head and bent down to retrieve the rest of the scattered papers on the floor. Just as he returned the papers to his desk, the phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked. "What? No, the pool is not supposed to be unlocked at this time of night. You say there are teenage kids swimming in the pool now? Tell them to get out! No, that's okay. I understand, I'll check it out. I'm leaving now anyway. No problem. Good-bye."

Tony sighed aloud and hung up the phone. He turned off the light switch as he exited the room.

Michael heard Tony shut and lock the office door. The moment Tony was gone, Michael stepped out from behind the chair and pulled the envelope from his pocket. Inside the envelope Michael found a receipt. The receipt was from **_Second Time Around_** pawn brokers, a shop not far from The Getaway.

Michael quickly searched the other drawers for another blank envelope. Finding none, he placed the receipt back into the center drawer by itself and left.

"Thanks, Kitt," Michael said, settling into the driver's seat once again. "Kids in the pool, very imaginative," he added.

"Actually, Michael, it was the truth," Kitt replied.

****


End file.
